


The Promise of What Could Be

by lemonypond



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Pushing Daisies
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Post FZZT, post series finale pushing daisies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonypond/pseuds/lemonypond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the device created by FitzSimmons to save Jemma could be used to cure a man that makes pies and wakes the dead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Facts were These

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this for weeks. This will be a multiple chapter story, because so much of my heart has been invested in Ned and Chuck for so long, and how much they got me through (and continue to get me through). This isn't necessarily a Fitz/Simmons ship work per se, (at least not yet) but it will be FitzSimmons heavy.
> 
> Updated: 7/8/14 The story's intro is some indeterminate time after FZZT but before The Bridge. Once the team meets Ned and Chuck some time later, it is after the events of The Bridge but before TRACKS.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson briefs FitzSimmons on a Pie Making/Dead Waking man.

Agent Coulson walked down the spiral staircase to greet Simmons and Fitz down in the lab. He was proud of what they had come up with on the fly in their mobile lab in just the few short weeks they had been a team. He was also tremendously thankful that they were able to come up with the vaccine for the Chitauri virus; he would have been very sad to lose Simmons, such a young, bright, beautiful woman, who was infinitely smarter than he was. He enjoyed her enthusiasm, even if he didn’t fully understand half of what she said. 

 He appreciated Fitz as well, and was impressed  with and moved by his dedication to Jemma during her infection. That was exactly why he handpicked them to be on his team.  They were brilliant on their own, but together their brainpower was limitless, unmatched. He would never tell Stark or Banner that, of course. They were truly remarkable, and so young; there was no telling what sort of amazing things they could do, how many lives they could save and protect.  He had always been good at recruiting, and he smiled at them as they were arguing over whose turn it was to talk to Grant Ward about the Night-Night pistol. They were about to use the old standard: rock, paper, scissors. 

“Fitzsimmons, good morning,” he announced, clearing his throat. He sometimes had to remind himself that they were so very young.  He was very excited about this next mission, and hoped that they would be too. It was a direct result of their scientific endeavors. He hoped it would help convey to them just how important they were to the team, and to S.H.I.E.L.D. He had a sneaking suspicion that they felt second rate when compared to Agents May and Ward. This mission was his chance to show them just how valuable they were. 

“Good morning, sir!” Jemma responded brightly.

“Hello, Agent Coulson,” Fitz said, simultaneously.

“What brings you down to the lab?” Jemma asked. She held out her hand in front of Fitz's face, her face full of silent laughter. He frowned, holding a fist. He would have to talk to Ward. 

“Well, I’m glad you asked Jemma, I came down to talk to you both about a new mission,” he said directing them to their holographic display. 

“Sure thing sir, what do you need? Some data recovery with the DWARFs again?” Jemma asked. 

  “Not exactly, but before I get to that, I want to give you some background,” he said, raising his hand slightly, as to set the scientists at ease. “Our mission today involves a gifted in our database. He has quite an unusual gift, and it has led him down quite an unusual path. Some of it tragic, and some of it extraordinary.  His name is Ned, and we’ve been watching him for more than twenty years. “ Coulson pulled up some files in the holographic display. They showed a thirty-something year old man, dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a kind smile. He was holding a pie. He looked incredibly unassuming.  
  
   "What is his power?” Fitz asked. “Does he change weather patterns? Or have the ability to shrink? Maybe he...” he looked between Agent Coulson and Simmons, “…I’ll shut up. I’m sure you’ll get to tha’.” 

Simmons sighed and hit him gently on the bicep with the back her hand before recrossing her arms. Coulson continued. “Ned runs a small pie shop in the pacific northwest, the best pies for 500 miles around. He has the ability to bring dead things back to life.” 

“Oh! So that’s how his pies are so good, he touches dead fruit and it becomes fresh?” Simmons asked excitedly. Coulson nodded. “But people as well? That’s…oh. Oh! Wow.” Her eyes bounced wildly as she spoke. She was incredibly perceptive and quick. 

“So how does his power work exactly?” Fitz turned from Simmons to Coulson. 

“We’re not entirely sure, but we know it's through direct contact. Touch,” he paused, both scientists listening intently with a faint smile on their faces.  “There’s an electrostatic shock, and whatever he touches essentially springs back to life as a result of that shock.” 

FitzSimmons’ faces showed their realization. They turned toward each other, eyebrows raised, then back to Coulson. 

“And now you see why I’m here. “ 

“You think our antiserum device…” Jemma pointed between herself and Fitz.

“Could be used to somehow neutralize this man,” Fitz finished, pointed at the image of Ned. 

“I do. But before we get into that I want to tell you _why_ I picked this mission. Yes, I think you could somehow develop a cure for Ned. But I want to tell you _why_ I want to find a cure for him.  I met him, once, about four years ago, so he wasn't much older than the two of you. This is a kind man.” He pointed at the image of Ned. “A gentle soul. He discovered his powers in the most unfortunate of ways. His dog was hit by a semi-truck when he was nine years old. Dog went airborne. When he went to touch his lifeless body, he perked back up and continued on like nothing had happened. Later that day his mother died of a brain aneurysm.” 

“Oh, God, the poor thing,” Jemma gasped, bring her hand to her mouth, with a caring, sympathetic look on her face. 

“Ned, seeing how his touch brought back his dog, touched his mother; and she did come back to life.” Coulson saw FitzSimmons smile at this. “However, his power was a two sided coin. When his mother went to kiss him goodnight, she died again. Forever. First touch life, second touch death.” He watched their faces fall. “It gets worse. If what Ned touches stays alive for more than sixty seconds, something else dies in it's place.  The neighbor girl's father died as a direct result of bringing his own mother back to life.” 

“Tha’s terrible. Nine years old. I ca’ even imagine,” Fitz said solemnly. 

“But sir, if he just doesn’t touch anything that’s dead, his life should continue fairly normally, shouldn’t it?” Simmons asked. Fitz nodded in agreement. 

“And it does, to an extent. But as you can imagine, he is vegetarian,” FitzSimmons shuddered. “Yeah, I know. Biology class. Touching a pile of dead leaves. Little things like that. When his mother died, his father shipped him off to boarding school. He never saw him again. He discovered later that his father remarried and started a new family. As a result, he grew to be very withdrawn. Few friends, very isolated. He did find a few ways to utilize his power. He runs his pie shop with a woman named Olive Snook. He also consults for a private investigator, solving murders.” He pulled up images of Olive and Emerson Cod. 

“Well tha’s very clever. Good for Ned,” Fitz interjected, seemingly impressed with how Ned managed to use his powers to help people. 

“I sense that there’s another heartbreaking part coming, right sir?” Jemma asked, with a dejected expression on her face. 

“Yes, Simmons, there is. Remember the neighbor girl, whose father died because of Ned? She died a few years ago. Twenty eight years old. Horrible incident on a cruise ship to Tahiti –it’s a magical place...,” Coulson drifted. “ ...He was in love with her. They were each other’s first and only kiss, shared after their parents’ funerals. They last saw each other that day, and he never forgot her. He…” 

“He brought her back to life…oh God…”

“…to stay…”

“…and they can never touch…”

“…or she’ll die again, forever,” Jemma and Leo alternated, with pained expressions. 

Coulson nodded and continued, “They live their life together, and they are content, but you are correct. If they ever touch again, she will die.”  He brought up an image of Charlotte “Chuck” Charles, a beautiful dark haired woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. She looked very kind.

The elder Agent turned his gaze back to the young scientists. He saw their faces, clearly affected by the tale of the Piemaker and Chuck. They were shoulder to shoulder, Jemma's head nearly grazing Fitz’s shoulder, his head hovering over hers. He felt the same. He wanted to bring someone good news; he wanted there to be a happy ending for someone. Too often in this job he got there too late. There was loss. There was pain. There was destruction. He wanted this one, bad.  Looking at the two young scientists, he saw a chance. He saw hope. He saw the future. 

“Sir, why aren’t the others here? Shouldn’t they be informed on the mission?” Jemma asked, Fitz in agreement. 

“Aside from the obvious danger to Ms. Charles, there is no threat to human life. No threat to the population. This is one man, and one woman. This is a purely scientific mission. The others will be informed later on today, and they will be made available to you should you need anything. Do you think it can be done?” Coulson asked. 

“Well, the administration device is definitely a good start, theoretically it could work,” Fitz pondered aloud. 

“We’ll have to visit Ned, run some brain and electrical scans, obviously some tissue samples, draw some blood. We should probably do the same with Ms. Charles, just to be thorough and eliminate as many factors as possible…” Jemma continued. 

Coulson smiled once again. “I’ve contacted Ned and Ms. Charles. He has been hesitant for many years, but I’ve told them about the brilliant work you’ve done, and about your recent personal experiences, and they’re open to finally beginning a dialog. I think once they meet you, they’ll be more receptive.” He saw Simmons squirm uncomfortably at the mention of her Chitauri infection, and watched as Fitz instinctively drew closer to her.

"I really think we have a chance here to change this man's life. To give him an opportunity to live, fully. He spends every waking minute of every waking day standing next to the woman he loves, unable to touch her. Can you imagine? Living that way, day after day, year after year?"  Coulson continued, catching Fitz's eyes.  Fitz swallowed hard as he glanced over at Jemma, standing mere millimeters away from him. Those hours that he was unable to touch Simmons had nearly broken him.

Coulson noted a change in Fitz's face as he looked at Simmons. He suspected what the young man didn't yet realize, but that would come with time. They were so young.

"If this is possible, and I truly believe it is, you will change this man's life. It won't be S.H.I.E.L.D., it won't be me, or Agent May, or Agent Ward; it will be your genius intelligence." He nodded at FitzSimmons, and they seemed to blush at his remarks.

“Thank you sir.” “We’ll get straight to work,” they responded at the same time. Coulson left to go upstairs, feeling really good about this mission. If there was anyone in the world that deserved to be happy it was Ned and Charlotte Charles. And if there was anyone capable of bringing about that happiness, it was FitzSimmons.

 

 

 

 


	2. A Welcoming Wagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FitzSimmons makes a trip to the Pie Hole to meet Ned the Piemaker and Charlotte Charles.

“I thought you always said you didn’t want men in black suits slicing you up into a million pieces,” Charlotte Charles said, peering into the oven, about to pull out the first pies of the day. The smell of cinnamon and apple permeated the shop. 

“I did. I do, I mean I don’t... I…don’t really know anymore,” Ned replied rolling out pie crust on the counter in the middle of the kitchen. “This Coulson guy, last time we talked he said he’d let me live my life, no pokes, no prods, as long as I wanted it.” 

“So what changed?” Chuck, as she was more often called, asked, spinning around, freshly baked pie in hand. 

Ned caught her gaze, wanting so much to hold her hands and tell her that it was her that had changed everything; that six years of having her in his life had been both his greatest joy and his greatest heartbreak. “He did. Or they did. I’m not really sure which,” his head waved from side to side as he spoke. 

Chuck pushed further. “Are you going to elaborate?” She turned to put another pie in the oven. 

“He works with a new team now; they saved someone from dying from some static shock alien disease” Ned began, sifting more flour onto the counter. 

“Static shock alien disease? What does that even mean?” Chuck asked, sprinkling a little extra cinnamon onto the latest pie. 

“I dunno. He said his scientist Fitzsimmons discovered the first ever known case of a disease spread through shock. And they invented a device to transfer an antiserum to cure it, in like 2 hours.  He said that no one else had ever seen anything like it; and they isolated it, found a cure, and way to transfer the cure, in less time than it takes to watch The Hobbit.” 

“That elven king is so handsome.” Chuck grinned. 

“You really think so?” Ned asked suddenly sidetracked. After a beat he continued. “You think this is a mistake.” 

“Maybe? So they create one vaccine and they can suddenly fix you too? What if it goes wrong? What if it goes horribly, terribly wrong? You aren’t a lab rat, you’re a person! You’re _my_ person and I don’t want anything to happen to you. Can they guarantee that nothing will go wrong?” Chuck turned from her pie to face Ned, eyes upturned. 

Ned turned to face the woman he loved and could never touch.  He could hear romantic orchestral music swell as their eyes met. “Olive…” 

“Sorry boss.” In the dining area Olive Snook quickly turned the stereo down. 

“No one can guarantee that nothing will go wrong. But the _scientist_ was the one infected. I’m pretty sure that makes him a person too and not just a lab rat.” 

As a direct result of Olive’s musical interlude they hadn’t heard the chime on the front door. If they had, they would have noticed the man and woman, both in their mid-twenties, now standing at the counter. “She, actually,” said the young man with a Scottish accent. 

“Sorry? Can we help you?” Chuck asked their new guests. 

“She was the one. The scientist that was infected,” he continued, nodding his head towards his partner. 

“And cured, obviously. Still very much living, thanks to you” the young British woman finished his sentence, a grin on her face. 

“Thanks to _you,_ actually, you did all the work. I…I was merely a catalyst,” the man’s face began to turn pink. 

Ned put down his rolling pin, wiped his hands and stepped from behind the counter to greet their guests. “Ah, you must be Fitzsimmons,” he said reaching for the woman’s hand. “And you are…” 

The two young scientists grinned at each other. “We get this a lot actually,” Jemma began, shaking Ned’s hand. “He’s Fitz,” nodding towards her companion. 

“And she’s Simmons. She’s biochem and I’m engineering.  Agent Coulson sent us to meet with you about your..particular gift.” 

“You’re two different people?” Ned raised his thick eyebrows in surprise. “They’re two different people,” he repeated, turning to Chuck. A look of realization swept over his face. “That explains why he kept saying ‘they’; I thought his use of pronouns was confusing. This makes much more sense.” Chuck said nothing but maintained a face of total bemusement. 

“Agent Coulson’s parking the car, he thought we should all sit down and have a bit of a chat about what we hope to do, perhaps allay any apprehensions you might have about the procedures we want to perform…” Simmons began. 

“…go over our plan of action, review our previous work with the Chitauri virus and our antiserum instrument designs if you would like to go over any technical concerns.” Fitz picked up without missing a beat. 

“I can show you some brain scans and the results of my blood panel if it’ll make you feel more comfortable…” 

“…oh yeah. Yeah her brain scans are really extraordinary.” 

“Aw, thanks Fitz!” 

“It is the truth; you’ve got an incredible brain.” 

“As do you.” 

 

Ned and Chuck were taken aback by how fast they spoke to one another and how different they were from what he imagined. They didn’t seem like scary government suits at all. They seemed like incredibly enthusiastic teenagers away at science camp. 

“Umm. Uhh…I don’t think I need to see your brain…or your…blood. But, thanks?” 

“Oh sure, not at all,” Simmons responded, not registering that Ned was looking a bit squeamish. “Sorry, we’re just really excited about working on you.” 

“With you,” Fitz corrected her, turning towards her, eyebrows raised. 

“With you. Yes, sorry.” Jemma said, turning back toward Ned, grimacing. 

The foursome stood there at the Pie Hole counter, staring at each other in awkward silence. 

“Pie!” Ned exclaimed, desperate to end the silence.  “Would you like some pie?” 

“Oh! Yes. Coulson said you had the freshest, most delicious pie for five hundred miles.” Fitz answered. Fitz was never one to turn down food, least of all pie. Ned smiled at the compliment, and led them to a booth near the large circular windows. 

Chuck grabbed two plates and cut two generous slices of the fresh apple pie. She was nervous and untrusting of the scientists. Even though Ned hadn’t mentioned it, she was sure that they would want to dissect her too. Maybe not dissect, but definitely analyze with needles and probes and gadgets that made foreign noises. She tried to not think about it, and attempted to focus on the fact that maybe, just maybe, she might one day be able to hold Ned’s hand. She looked at him across the room, and thought of what it might feel like to kiss his lips without the aid of plastic wrap.

Just then, Agent Coulson walked into the Pie Hole, followed by a young woman, dressed much more casually than the scientists. “Fitzsimmons, I see you haven’t scared away Ned yet. Good,” Coulson said. 

“You didn’t offer to show him your brain, did you?” the younger woman asked. 

“No, Skye….ok, maybe a _little_ ,” Jemma answered defensively. Next to her, Fitz nodded no, then yes, and held his thumb and index finger close together. 

“Of course you did,” Skye laughed. “Move over, the Welcome Wagon just came for the pie.” 

The two scientists rolled their eyes and slid closer together to fit Skye on their side of the booth. Ned told Chuck to grab more plates and more pie. Coulson grabbed a chair and sat at the end. Chuck came to the table with a stack of plates and the rest of the pie. 

Coulson exchanged pleasantries with Ned and Chuck as the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents tucked into their pie. 

“This must be Charlotte,” Coulson raised his hand to shake hers. 

"Yep, that’s me. The alive-again girlfriend.”

“That is truly remarkable,” Fitz said, his mouth full of food.  You have a heartbeat, and your cells regenerate, and everything?” 

“He means if you bruise or get hurt, you heal; your hair grows if its cut, things like that,” Simmons chimed in, seeing the confused look on Chucks’ face. 

“Ah, yes, those would all be correct,” Chuck answered. “I just don’t get any older.”  
  
“Really? That’s so cool!” Skye said, “Wait, how do you know?” 

“It’s more of a guess really. Digby over there died when I was nine, and he’s still around,” Ned said, turning towards the retriever in the back of the store. 

The agents all turned to look at Digby, who was sitting near the kitchen, chewing on a bone; he barked at the attention, then rolled over. 

“Fascinating,” Fitzsimmons said in unison. 

“Ned, Fitzsimmons here have a fully functional lab on our Bus, and we’d very much like to take you guys over there and give you a tour this afternoon.” Fitzsimmons nodded excitedly in agreement. 

Ned sat there, looking at the table of strangers, all smiling at him. They seemed nice he thought, and even though they each probably knew seventy five different ways to kill him, he didn’t think they would use any of them. He caught Chuck’s eye. He could see that she was still nervous, and he was too. They sat there, looking in each other’s eyes, tuning out everyone else at the table. She nodded at him with a half grin.  Reading her thoughts, he grinned too. 

“Wha’ do you say, Ned? Come check out the lab, and we’ll show you jus’ how safe everything will be. I promise Simmons won’t cut anyone open,” Fitz cut through the silence, and Simmons poked him in the ribs with her elbow. Simmons nodded in agreement as he poked back. 

“Where is this bus you speak of? I don’t see it on the street.” Ned remembered his last experience with a bus, and he hoped this bus would have fewer Norwegians. 

Coulson grinned. “Skye and I will pick you up this afternoon.”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Making pies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emerson Cod isn't entirely thrilled by all of the recent developments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short transitional chapter.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. team left the Pie Hole with several large to-go boxes and an ounce of hope. They hadn’t totally scared off Ned and Charlotte, which had been a real concern given how well Fitzsimmons communicated with others that were not them. They climbed into Coulson’s prized car, Lola, and headed back to the Bus. “No pie in Lola,” Coulson said, turning to look straight at Fitz. Fitz placed the box in Simmons’ lap and sat on his hands slightly dejected. 

“Dude, you JUST ate like two pieces, you can’t wait until we get back to the Bus?” Skye asked from the front seat. 

“I just…it’s really good!” Fitz answered back defensively. 

“It _is_ really good,” Simmons said, adjusting the pile of boxes in her lap. She didn’t know how she became the holder of the pies, but she wasn’t complaining, the sweet aroma wafted upwards reminding her of home. “But you have to share, Fitz, these are for May and Ward, too; not just you.” 

Coulson pulled away from the curb and headed down the road. As they were leaving he noticed another classic car pulling up to the Pie Hole. It was a white mid-1960s Lincoln Continental with suicide doors. The driver nodded to Coulson as they crossed paths.  Emerson Cod parked his car and went into the Pie Hole, leaving a child’s backpack in the back seat and large bag of yarn in the front seat of his car. 

“Was that them?” Emerson asked, sitting at the counter. He wasn’t thrilled about losing his cash cow, and had made his feelings known. Of course he wanted his friend to be happy, and after all these years that was in fact what Ned had become; but it didn’t make losing out on thousands of dollars of reward money any easier to swallow, and Emerson Cod was not someone who could mask his feelings. 

“Don’t act like you aren’t just a little bit happy for us. Here,” Chuck poured a fresh cup of coffee for the grumpy detective. 

“Look, I’m all for you guys getting do to the touchy feely dance but that don’t mean my wallet isn’t sad about how empty it’s going to be.” 

“Thanks for your support,” Chuck replied with a half-smile. “You know you could just solve crimes the old fashioned way. And anyway aren’t you rich now from your pop-up book?” 

“I’m comfortable, but I could always use a little more comforting,” he answered, adjusting his tie. “Where’s Olive?” 

“She took Digby for his daily mid-morning walk,” Ned answered as he walked in from the back pantry, carrying a bowlful of rotten fruit. Ned for years has always made sure that Olive Snook took Digby for a walk so that he could take old, rotten fruit and make it ripe again; she’d never questioned the large, locked door on the pantry, and she loved Digby. Ned had always felt like it was a win-win situation for everyone involved. 

“Got a case for your trigger finger when you’re done with your bowl of mold,” Emerson said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Can’t today. That Coulson guy and his team are taking us for tour of their Slice-N-Dice,” Chuck answered sarcastically.

“They promised no slicing and no dicing,” Ned answered, a little more defensively than he either intended or realized. “Not today at least.” 

“That Simmons girl definitely wanted to slice you into little pieces and put you in a jar,” Chuck said, slicing up the newly ripened peaches. 

“She did not. Did she?” Ned paused. “Ok, she probably did, but her boyfriend seemed to know how to stop her from going overboard.”  Ned continued to touch the pile of peaches, one by one, and tossing them to Chuck with his gloved hand. 

“Oh, they were cute, but they’re not dating.” Chuck said, catching one of the peaches. 

“How do you know? We only just met them,” Ned asked. 

“Because if they were they would have shared their pie.” Chuck answered. 

“That’s ridiculous, everyone should be able to eat their own pie,” Ned quipped. 

“Ok, that’s true. I made that up. But I asked Skye and she laughed and said no,” Chuck took a peach and bit into it to stifle her own laugh. 

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Ned asked again. 

“Because they obviously love each other; did you see the way Fitz looked her? Or how her face beamed when he talked about her brain? I’ve seen that look before,” Chuck said, a warm smile forming on her face. 

“You’ve given that look before,” Ned added. 

“You’re going to grab the plastic wrap aren’t you…” Emerson Cod asked wearily. “Aw _hell_ no. You are. I’m sitting right here, man, can’t you two do this someplace else?” 

Chuck grabbed the plastic wrap from the counter and placed it between her face and Ned’s. She may not have been able to touch Ned, but that had never stopped them from thinking outside the box, or rather inside the box-of plastic wrap. 

“Are you done yet?” Emerson asked, looking at his watch. “We could just go to the morgue and talk to the guy, it won’t take more than say… sixty seconds. Tick tock.” 

Ned and Chuck broke away from their plasticized kiss. Ned still blushed after all these years together with Chuck. Emerson had long theorized that it was because every time they kissed they were smothering each other with plastic, thereby losing oxygen, but Ned liked to think that it was because he was still deeply in love with the girl from Coeur d’Coeurs. “Coulson said they’d be around to take us to their lab at three this afternoon, and it’s only eleven thirty. Yeah ok, we can make a morgue run.” 

“That’s more like it, and good timing; I get to pick up Penny from school this afternoon,” Emerson said, smiling. After writing and designing his now famous pop-up book _Li’l Gumshoe,_ his daughter had finally found him, and he was in the process of gaining full custody. No matter what happened with Ned and Chuck, Emerson had found his happiness again, and he wanted his friends to be happy too.


	4. Waking the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emerson, Ned and Chuck go to solve a case with some unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll write a fic for anyone who can guess where the names of the architecture firm originated. Please. :-)

Emerson, the Pie Maker, and Chuck drove to the morgue to solve the murder of thirty two year old Felicity Watson, an architect. Ned’s phone rang in his pocket as they were driving. 

“Ned? Hey there! Listen, this is Fitzsimmons. We have you on speakerphone,” Fitz shouted at him through the receiver. 

“Uhh…hi guys. What do you need?” 

Simmons chimed in first. “Well we noticed your business partner pull up to the shop as we were leaving, and we wondered if you were going on a…case? Where you undeaded someone? That cannot be a word, can it? Undeaded. We’ll need to work on that…” she drifted. 

Ned wondered how they knew who Emerson was, but then he realized they worked for a super-secret government agency and thought better than to ask. “We are, actually, but we should be done in plenty of time…” 

Simmons interrupted Ned before he could finish his sentence. “To meet us in the lab, yes of course.” 

“But Simmons and I, well, we were thinking, if you were going to do your…thing…then maybe we could get some data on how your brain functions while you’re…undeading.” 

“We’ve got plenty of specimens ready on the Bus, but we just thought if you’re on your way…” 

“We could just get a head start; you can never be too thorough,” Fitz finished. 

Emerson Cod honked his horn at car not going when the light turned green. Ned couldn’t help but notice that he heard a muffled horn sound on the other end of the phone. 

“Are you…are you already on your way?” Ned asked, looking a few cars ahead, and checking the rear view mirrors. 

The car in front of them turned onto the side street, and Emerson pulled slowly forward next to a black van with an eagle on the side. 

Simmons waved timidly from the passenger side window, holding a phone. Fitz leaned over and raised his hand from the driver’s seat. 

“Hello!” FitzSimmons answered into the phone. 

Chuck, Ned, and Emerson had blank stares. Chuck waved and Emerson laughed. Ned disconnected from the call and wrinkled his eyebrows. Simmons looked hurt momentarily, but then Fitz said something to her and she turned away from the window. 

“Heh, heh, they are eager little beavers, aren’t they?” Emerson bemused. 

“You know, they’re growing on me,” Chuck said, leaning forward between the seats. 

“They aren’t putting electrodes on you today,” Ned mumbled. 

One block later, both vehicles parked along the street, Fitzsimmons taking out two large cases and two even larger wheeled crates from the back of the van. Chuck held the door for them as everyone walked into the morgue. 

“Who are they?” the coroner asked Emerson from his desk, barely acknowledging Ned and Chuck. 

“We’re with…we’re with them,” Simmons said nervously. 

“I see that. But who _are_ you?” the coroner asked again, barely blinking. 

“We’re from the…the…” Fitz tried to come up with _something_ , this mission was strictly off the radar according to Coulson, so saying he was from S.H.I.E.L.D. was out of the question. 

“They’ve been sent by the construction site where the body was found to verify cause of death. For the government safety place,” Ned said, rather quickly. 

“Mmmhmm. I’ve heard that one before,” the coroner replied, again barely blinking. Simmons was beginning to be concerned about the man’s lack of blinking and began staring. 

“We’ve got badges!” Fitz said, eagerly reaching for his badge from his back pocket. Taking Fitz’s lead, Simmons reached for hers out of the inner pocket of her blazer. 

“Put those away, and go in. You’re with them,” the coroner answered before either agent could show their badge, partially raising his hand to wave it in mock protest. 

Emerson smiled and said thanks as everyone and their equipment went into the cold, metal room. Ned and Simmons both breathed a sigh of relief while Chuck and Fitz smiled awkwardly. The scientists quickly started unpacking their crates and cases. They had brought a remarkable set up, including a portable MEG and EEG, along with the necessary magnetic shielding to create a barrier between the instrumentation and the computers. Among a variety of other things there was also a set of seven flying robots, which began to hover in the corner of the room. Ned stared at them and began to fidget. 

“Oh don’t worry, those are the D.W.A.R.F.S., short for _drones wirelessly automated to retrieve forensics_ ; they’re just going to sort of act as extra eyes and ears for myself and Fitz,” Simmons said, noticing Ned’s reaction. 

“Yeah, eyes and ears, _and_ thermal scanners, three different types of spectrometers for radiation, electrical impulses, and magnetic resonance, to name a few of their many abilities,” Fitz swooped in to add with an air of indignation, typing furiously onto a trifold tablet. 

“Dwarfs, like as in, Snow White and the?” Chuck asked. 

“Yes, exactly, Fitz created seven drones so it seemed to fit, and S.H.I.E.L.D. really loves its acronyms so they were a huge hit back at Sci-Ops,” Simmons answered cheerfully. 

"So are you the Snow White to his Prince Charming?” Chuck asked with a playful smirk. "Oh don't tell me you never made the connection."

“Wh-what?..well, I..I really…I don’t, umm,” Simmons stammered, turning three shades of red as the screwdriver in her hand slipped.  “Ah, there. All set up,” she quickly changed the subject and cleared her throat as she picked up the screwdriver to connect the last of the monitors up to her mini work station. 

Chuck smirked and looked at Fitz, who was busy calibrating the D.W.A.R.F.s and had not heard the conversation. Simmons straightened out her sweater before scurrying away to get some gloves and alcohol swabs from her overly large bag with a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the side. 

Ned, however, _was_ listening and seeing this genius scientist lose her cool and collected demeanor at the words of his irrepressible girlfriend seemed to calm his nerves. She really had a gift for getting into other people’s heads, and he could tell she was enjoying herself. She wasn’t necessarily meddlesome, but she did like to stir things up, in a helpful way, she always reminded him.  She had brought him out of his shell and his comfort zone so much, and for her he could endure any horrific feat. He could conquer any foe placed in front of him. He could slay any dragon and climb any mountain. He could… 

“WHAT is _THAT?”_ Ned quickly snapped out of his daydream and recoiled, almost knocking over the stack of S.H.I.E.L.D. cases that he was leaning against; he hadn’t noticed that Simmons had walked over and now stood in front of him. She carried what looked like a hairdryer one would find in a hair salon, only without the stand and the lounge chair underneath, and much scarier. 

“ _This_ is going to allow us to monitor your brain functions before, during, and after you undead this corpse,” Simmons answered with a kind smile. “But before you put it on, first we need to swab down your exposed skin. It’s probably going to be cold.”   

 Almost as soon as the words came out of her mouth, Fitz walked over with a handful of alcohol wipes. “She was right, these are cold”, Ned thought to himself. He flinched as Fitz cleaned his forehead, face, and neck. 

While the scientists were preparing for their first undeading, Emerson found a corner to sit and knit a pair of mittens and a matching scarf. He really had no stake in any of this, at least not until Ned zapped the dead architect back to life. So he did the only sensible thing he could think of; he stayed out of the way. 

“So Simmons will put this brain scanner on your head, and I’ll connect it to these electrodes that I’ll place around your head,” Fitz explained holding nine small electrodes in his right hand. “These here,” Fitz held out two electrodes in his left hand, “will monitor your heart rate. We need you to unbutton your shirt.” 

Ned complied, and shivered as Fitz wiped down his chest.  He was considering running for the door, but then he saw Chuck standing next to him in the corner of his eye, asking Simmons, who was standing across from her, about how all of this would work; she had a look of total concentration trying to wrap her head around everything the fast talking Brit said. Everything was happening so fast, his head started to spin. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He imagined a picnic, somewhere in Coeur d’Coeurs, near the field of daisies, turkey sandwiches and fresh pie. He imagined holding Chuck’s hand as they drank wine. He imagined pushing the hair away from Chuck’s face as they fell to the ground laughing in the bright afternoon sun. He imagined kissing Chuck without plastic wrap. The spinning in his head slowed and he opened his eyes. Fitz was still standing in front of him. 

“You alright there, Ned? You looked like you left us for a bit,” Fitz asked as he finished affixing the electrodes to Ned’s head and chest. 

“Yeah, no, yeah. Sorry. Those are just really, very cold,” Ned answered, turning his head towards Chuck and Simmons. Both women smiled at him, Chuck wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. Simmons stepped closer, still carrying they brain scanner that looked like a hair dryer. She turned her head to Fitz, and he nodded and stepped back to allow Simmons to stand where he was. 

“So this is going on your head, you can move about freely once I’ve snapped it in place. The only thing is once it’s on, everything will look upside down, so try not to fall over,” Simmons said. 

“WHAT?” Ned asked suddenly turning very pale. 

“That was a joke,” Simmons smirked. “It will feel heavy though, so do try not to fall over. We only yesterday turned this into a mobile unit. Usually it’s connected to a table and you’d have to be lying down, so we're still working on how to decrease the weight. There you go, all set up. Now I’ll just go turn everything on.” 

Ned stood nervously. He saw a faint blue glow eminate from the helmet on his head and heard a slight hum in his ears. He hoped the sweat that was beginning to drip from his temples wouldn't ruin the results. Emerson looked up from his knitting and laughed, “You look like a robotic mushroom. “ 

“Well I think he looks very brave and handsome,” Chuck answered back. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Simmons said, now standing in front of her mobile workstation. 

“Everything’s going to be fine, Ned. The only thing different from all the other times you’ve done this is now Simmons and I will be able to see what happens to you, and maybe we’ll be able to see how to fix it. Now relax, we need to get some normal reading from you before we begin,” Fitz said reassuringly. 

“Normal, right. I don’t even know what normal is.” Ned said, more to himself than to anyone else.  

Fitzsimmons then began prepping the corpse, applying a similar set of electrodes to the cold body of architect Felicty Watson. There were bruises on her neck and holes through her shoulder. She had been attacked with a nail gun and strangled at the building site of her firm’s latest skyscraper. There was a $50,000 reward for the killer sponsored by her firm, _Caspe, Daniels, & Schur_. 

Ned and Chuck stood side by side, each clasping their own hands behind their backs. Fitzsimmons spoke sci-tech babble while tapping away on their workstation and tablets. Emerson walked over, having finished his mittens. “You ready for this, Piemaker?” he asked. 

“As ready as a…something that’s reluctantly ready and frozen in place and needs to be pushed,” Ned replied hurriedly.

“Time for that push then,” Simmons said. “We’re ready for you.” 

Emerson nudged the Piemaker forward. “I’ve done this dozens and dozens of time before. A bakers dozen of dozens, actually. This isn’t any different. I’ve only got a giant mushroom hairdryer on my head monitoring things I don’t even understand, but yeah, this isn’t any different.” 

Fitz gave him a nod, his D.W.A.R.F.s now hovering above the scene. Magnetic shielding stretched from the ceiling to the floor, separating Simmons’ work station from the corpse on the table. “We will all be just over here, you and Mr. Cod can undead Ms. Watson and we’ll monitor your vital signs from here.” 

Ned nodded. Chuck walked with Fitzsimmons over and stood next to Simmons. Fitz moved the last piece of shielding completely separating  himself and Emerson from the others. 

“We’ve got video from Dopey, so whenever you’re ready,” Fitz said from the other side. 

Ned swallowed and took a deep breath. He set his watch and quickly touched Ms. Watson’s arm. She gasped and sat up. “Where am I?!? Last thing I remem…” 

Ned cut her off. “yeah hi, not a lot of time, you’re dead, you were found at the construction site, who killed you?” 

“Well that sucks. _What_ on earth is on your head?” she asked, frightened. 

“Doesn’t matter now, do you know who killed you? We want to bring you justice.” 

“It was my boss’s son, Greg, he followed me to the site so that he could get the promotion over me, he was jealous that I got the lead on the project.” 

“Great. Well, not great, you’re dead.” 

Emerson chimed in. “Thirty seconds.” 

“You’re doing great, keep going,” he heard Simmons say from the other side of the wall. 

“Who’s that?” Felicity asked. 

“Those are S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists doing research,” Ned answered. 

“What’s S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

“Ten seconds, Ned,” Emerson said. 

“I really have no idea!” Ned said and quickly tapped her arm again. Felicity Watson fell hard against the table once again returning to her lifeless state. 

“That’s great, Ned, we’re just going to keep the sensors and the D.W.A.R.F.s monitoring you for about five more minutes,” Simmons said through the wall once more.

“Great. Okay.” Ned sighed, looking up at the humming machines overhead. “That went well.” 

“It did. So I’ll go finish the case while you two lovebirds go on your science tour with Snow White and Prince Charming.” 

On the other side of the wall Ned heard a cough and a metal clang overhead. He then heard Chuck giggle as there was some mumbled cursing in a Scottish accent. 

Ned held his own hands behind his back, pretending to hold the hands of Chuck on the other side of the wall, who was also holding her hands behind her back pretending to hold the hands of Ned.


	5. Girl in the Flower Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get awkward for Fitzsimmons on the way back to the van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I intended to be a short chapter became very dialogue laden. It's literally 3 pages to get from the morgue to the van. Ned and Chuck are notorious for word vomit, so it seemed to fit in character. Also if you can pretend there's the Pushing Daisies act break/episode music at the end of every chapter it's really fun.
> 
> And if anyone's confused, the chapter title is referring to Chuck, who often wears bright floral dresses. I'm trying to alternate SHIELD and Pushing Daisies references for the chapter titles.

The scientists packed up their gear as Ned and Chuck saw Emerson to his car. “You alright, Piemaker?” Emerson asked as he opened to door to the car. 

Ned rubbed his head. “Me? Yeah, just have a bit of a headache from the weight of that contraption.” 

“And your hair is all a mess too,” Chuck added. “Emerson, will you fix his hair for me?” 

“Dead girl, I am not a barber,” Emerson scowled.  Chuck gave him her finest pout. “Fine…lean over this way Ned.” 

Ned  leaned over the car door and grimaced like a schoolboy as Emerson straightened out his now unruly hair. “Is that better, Dead Girl? Can I go now?” Emerson asked again. 

Chuck smiled. “Much, we’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Good luck with them geeks this afternoon.” Emerson said as he started the car. As they waved at their friend, they heard a loud thud behind them. 

“FITZ! Will you slow down?!? That is my equipment you’re banging into the walls!” Simmons shouted over her shoulder. The pair was each wheeling one of their large crates of equipment with bags balanced on top, wheeling them haphazardly down the hallway, crashing into the walls every few feet. 

“Well if you didn’t insist on carrying everything in one go one of us could have gotten the door!” Fitz shouted back. 

“Well if YOU would have let me pack the bags back up the way I _prefer them_ then everything would have fit and we wouldn’t be balancing them so precariously on the crates!” Simmons shouted back. 

“Oh don’t you dare pin this on me. You brought entirely too much equipment! We could have left half of this in the van, OR, even better, back on the BUS! Tha' way I wouldn’t have had to carry it all…TWICE!” Fitz shouted back. 

Ned turned to look at Chuck, who in turn had a look of concern on her face. “I think you had something to do with that,” he said, nodding towards the bickering scientists. “You made them uncomfortable with your _Snow White_ analogies. And now they’re fighting.” 

Chuck made a face of mild protest. “I merely asked a question. It’s not my fault they didn’t come to the conclusion themselves. Well _he_ must have come to the conclusion- he did name them after all. It’s not my fault _she_ didn’t come to the conclusion _nor_ is it my fault that _he_ never told her. This is fun!” She smiled and ran to get the door to help Fitzsimmons with the door, her bright floral skirt bouncing behind her. 

“Let me help you with that guys!” she grabbed the door just before a bag came crashing off the top of the wheeled crate. Simmons caught it as she herself bounced off the wall. 

Simmons huffed partly from frustration with Fitz and partly to regain composure in front of Chuck. “Oh thank you so much, Chuck, that’ll really help us out,” she smiled brightly as Chuck grabbed the large bag from her. “Now Fitz watch out for the bump in the door frame!” 

“Watching!” he shouted ahead. He leaned into the crates and rammed his shoulder as hard as he could. On his third attempt, the wheels went over the door jam and another bag went flying forward off the crate.  Ned was approaching the scene and caught it just in time before it landed on Simmons’ head. 

“Everything alright with you guys?” Ned asked, eyebrow arched in suspicion. 

Fitz stopped struggling with the crate and turned to look Ned straight in the eye. “With us? Everything’s fine. We just have a _lot of equipment_ is all,” he said with gritted teeth. 

Simmons scowled at Fitz from behind her own crate as she began to wheel it onto the van. “Everything’s is just super Ned, no awkwardness at all.” 

Chuck couldn’t resist chiming in as she walked up the ramp inside the van. “Who said anything about awkwardness?” 

“I thought-“ Simmons began. A deer in the headlights look washed over her face, and she quickly glanced between Fitz, Ned, and Chuck. “You know what? Nevermind,” and she quickly threw on a bright smile.  “Chuck if you could place that bag under that shelf there that would be great.” She wiped a mild trickle of sweat from her brow and walked quickly down the ramp to help Fitz, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. Chuck followed suit. 

Ned gawked at Chuck, who merely shrugged in return. “Were your D.W.A.R.F.s alright? I heard a crash as we were ending everything back there,” Ned said as he gestured back towards the building. 

With mention of the D.W.A.R.F.s Fitz’s ears turned crimson. “The D.W.A.- oh they’re fine. They’re fine. They can withstand impacts at much higher velocities than that. And the data is all fine. They’re fine. Wanna help me with this?” he nodded toward the crate. 

“Oh sure!” Ned scrambled to the other side, helping to guide it up the ramp. “Listen, I’m real sorry about what Chuck and Emerson said, they can be quite meddlesome in other peoples affairs,” he said as they were positioning the crate against the inside of the van.  “They mean no harm but they can be a bit insensitive…” 

“Yeah well.” Fitz fumbled over his words as he secured the equipment with bungee cords. “Well the thing is, Ned, that yah, I did think about tha’ when we named them. But I never…I never _told her tha’!_ It didn’t need to be said. It just was. It was _comfortable._ And then she almost _died_. And now its… I don't know what it is. I don’t know why I’m telling you this,I don't even know what _this_ is. I don’t _even know_ you. Well I mean, I know your _file_ , but we’re not friends.” 

“I just have one of those faces?” Ned asked with a half smirk and shrugged shoulders. “Well I think by the time you’re through with me you’ll probably know me pretty well.” Ned’s smirk fell and he got more serious. “Listen I don’t have a lot of friends, Fitz, but you seem like a nice guy. And you seem to really care about Simmons. I’m not the greatest guy for advice as I’ve only loved one girl in my life and I can’t even touch her. But every minute has been an adventure out of my comfort zone with her. And I’m a better man for it." 

Fitz shrugged back, letting Ned's words settle into his mind, but still neither willing nor ready to talk about his changing feelings for Simmons. “Well that’s that. Ready for the Bus tour?” 

“So no more testing for today?” Ned was suddenly anxious again and felt like his tongue fell straight down into his feet. 

Fitz was barely listening. He was looking outside to where Chuck and Simmons were talking. Simmons was smiling, but Fitz could tell it was her nervous smile because it didn’t meet her eyes. Chuck’s smile was mirroring Simmons’.

\------

“I’m really sorry about what I said earlier, I just thought it was cute and very clever with the whole Snow White and the seven dwarfs thing how you guys named them,” Chuck tried to cut the growing silence. “I hope I didn’t make things weird between you two.” 

“Weird? Wh-noooo. Nothing weird, dear Chuck,” she lied-terribly. “It was just an observation that neither Fitz nor myself ever made. Well,” she paused. “There was that _one_ time Fitz talked about it, but he was _royally_ drunk off his arse and I doubt he ever remembered that conversation. I never thought anything of it really; we were so drunk and were having so much fun...we had the _worst_ hangover ever. That was the night we finally finished the very first prototypes for the D.W.A.R.F.s back at the Academy and we celebrated down in the Boiler Room and-“ Simmons cut herself off when she realized Chuck was grinning. “I assure you- I just-why am I telling you all this?” 

“I dunno. I guess I just have one of those faces,” she grinned, bouncing up on her toes. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few days, we might as well get to know each other right? Maybe after you learn a little bit more about us you might feel more comfortable talking about it?” Chuck hoped she would. Olive wasn’t around nearly as much as she used to be, since she left the building and moved in with Randy Mann. “Might make me feel a bit better with you poking and prodding me and Ned for research.” 

Simmons realized then that Chuck wasn’t trying to complicate or interfere with her partnership with Fitz. She was merely a frightened woman looking to gain their trust and forge a connection. She and Fitz had their entire lives in their hands.  And while Jemma wished she would go about it a bit differently, one thing she had learned from her new friendship with Skye was that people in the real world just want to belong and be loved. Her face softened. “For a cure,” she corrected. “Of course. I’m so sorry. Sometimes Fitz and I just sort of…disconnect from the human side of things. 

“Yeah. I figured,” Chuck forced a half grin, pleased that Simmons understood her convoluted way of going about things. “I spent most of my life living, well my first life, with my shut in aunts. Well…one shut in mother and one shut in aunt- long story- and spent most of the time taking care of them. I didn’t get out that much. Most of my time was spent with a library full of books. It was difficult to take a leap and get past that.” 

Jemma stood up a bit taller at those words. “Take a leap…, "she repeated. "But you seem to have gotten past that quite well. How did you-“ 

“I died,” Chuck answered simply, turning to face Simmons. “And Ned gave me a second chance. A chance I should never have had but a chance none the less. I vowed to not let this second life go to waste.  Which is why even though this whole experiment thing with you guys could and will change absolutely everything that we know, I know that we have to take that chance. “ They nervously smiled at each other, each taking something from the conversation. They turned and looked to the van where Ned and Fitz were securing the last of the equipment. Both men looked to be having a serious conversation as both were frowning. 

“Looks like they’ve got the last of the equipment loaded into the van,” said Simmons, raising her eyebrows. “Ready to see the Bus? Our home away from home?” 

Before Chuck could answer, the men closed up the back of the van and walked over. 

Fitz spoke first. “Your precious equipment is all secure, Simmons. Sorry about earlier.” He grabbed the back of his collar as he spoke. “ I just haven’t eaten in-“ 

“Three whole hours, Fitz.” Simmons cut him off, looking at her watch. She knew by his look that he genuinely felt bad about their argument, but refused to admit what it was about. “It’s okay Fitz, I’m sorry…I… got so twitchy about packing. I need to learn to be better about…that.” She was a terrible liar, but she was taking lessons from Skye and she hoped that he couldn’t pick up on it. “Everything good?” 

Fitz grinned and nodded. “Everything’s good.” 

In that moment to Chuck and Ned it seemed as if they had become invisible. Chuck laughed to herself and Ned shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Right then, you guys ready for the grand tour?” Fitz asked, gesturing for the van. 

“Grand tour.” Ned swallowed.


	6. The Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Chuck visit the Bus for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a hiatus from this story to clear my head and write other things. This is just a short interlude before we do SCIENCE.

The drive out to the airfield where Agent May had landed the Bus was not short, nor was it very long. It was neither fast nor was it particularly slow. It was a relatively quiet drive, punctuated with a conversation about bees and pheromones and pollination between Simmons and Chuck. Ned mostly stared out the window. Fitz mostly drove in silence; he detested the flying, stinging creatures and made sure that his feelings were heard, which made both Simmons and Chuck laugh. Both men occasionally nodded and mumbled in agreement, to what neither was certain.  The airfield was along the route to Coeur d’Coeurs and Ned’s mind wandered back to running and playing in the unending fields of daisies along this road. 

He could hardly remember his life before the day that Digby was hit by the truck. He never understood the why or the how of that day or any day since; what had changed that made him a human defibrillator of sorts. He only knew that for the last twenty four years, seven months and fourteen days he had been different. He struggled with the desire to be ordinary and the need to accept that he was extraordinary. Chuck was the epitome of his daily struggle; she wouldn’t be alive if he weren’t extraordinary, but he could never hold her because he wasn’t ordinary. 

“Ned? Ned are you even listening?” he heard in the background. “NED?” Chuck spoke louder. 

“Hmm? Sorry I was just…” 

“Somewhere else apparently,” she smiled. “I was just telling Agent Simmons about my experience with Oscar Vibenius.” 

“Oh. How he said you smelled like death?” he answered distractedly, finally turning around. 

“Mmmhmmm.” 

“Oh that’s very interesting, Chuck. I’d love to take a hair sample and run a chemical analysis while we’re here today,” Simmons interjected, recording some notes into her tablet. 

Chuck smiled nervously. “So…why did you guys park your bus way out here? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to drive into town?” 

Fitz slowed the van and turned onto a dirt road surrounded by daisies expanding to the horizon in every direction. Directly ahead, the outline of a magnificent, massive aircraft came into view. 

“Be-cause…” Fitz paused, craning his neck forward over the steering wheel, “it wouldn’t fit.” He grinned proudly. 

Ned and Chuck both looked dumbfounded as they stared at the aircraft looming ahead. “You guys…live here?” Ned asked incredulously. “On a plane?” 

“It can be a bit cramped at times, but we’ve adapted pretty well so far.” Simmons replied. “You get used to it.” 

The cargo bay was open, and Fitz pulled directly into the plane. As he put the van into park he turned around and said “Home sweet Bus.” 

As they climbed out of the van, Agent Coulson walked briskly over, arms crossed. “Where have you been?” he began, then noticing Ned and Chuck continued, “I thought we agreed that Skye and I would bring them over. What were you two thinking?” he asked sternly. 

Simmons spoke up first. “Fitz and I thought-“ 

Coulson interrupted her, holding his hand up. “-No. You didn’t clear it with me. Why didn’t you clear it with me?” 

Fitz spoke up this time. “We just thought we’d get a head start-“ 

Again, Coulson interrupted. “-No. You didn’t clear it with me. I know this is not a hot zone, but we have protocol for a reason. We had agreed no science today. We didn’t want to overwhelm Ned and Ms. Charles.” 

Hearing his name, Ned spoke up. “Oh no, sir, it’s fine. Really, not overwhelmed. Just adequately…whelmed.” He managed a sheepish smile. 

“We’re just as excited about all of this as they are, Agent Coulson.” Chuck added. 

The tension left Agent Coulson’s face, seeing that Ned and Chuck were still on board and not running away screaming. Skye walked over to the scene seeing the tension. “A.C.’s just mad because he didn’t get to pick up more pie,” she said with a smile.  Coulson shot her a look that would have made most people squirm. 

“So this is our mobile headquarters.” Coulson tried to ignore Skye. “Were they shocked with the reveal?” He asked FitzSimmons. “That’s always my favorite part.” 

Fitzsimmons didn’t know how to respond, so they didn’t. “Nevermind,” he continued, walking the group towards the lab.  “So down here is our mobile science lab, outfitted with state of the art equipment and the two certified geniuses you’ve already met, which is where you’ll be spending the majority of your visits. Upstairs we have our living quarters and our command center.” 

Ned and Chuck looked around, taking in the scene. Neither had ever been inside an airplane, much less one of this caliber. Coulson began to walk up the spiral staircase. “Wait…that’s it?” Fitz asked. 

“Yeah.” Coulson said simply, sensing the young engineer’s disappointment. 

“But the lab…it’s the..” Fitz gestured wildly towards the lab. 

“Yes, Agent Fitz, your lab is very impressive.” Coulson smiled. “But so is the rest of my ship.” And he took Ned and Chuck upstairs to see the rest of the Bus. Ned and Chuck waved as they followed up the staircase. 

“Don’t worry Fitz, everyone knows that the lab is the best part,” Simmons said, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Shall we unload?” 

“Yeah, alright,” he answered. “But just for that I’m going to eat the rest of Coulson’s pie.” 

“Oh I think he already expects that, Fitz,” she said with the most cheerful of smiles. “C’mon then, let’s unload the van and get everything set up. This is so exciting!” 

Upstairs on the main level of the Bus, Chuck and Ned were introduced to Agents Ward and May. 

“The dead girl and the Pie Maker?” Agent May deadpanned. 

“I think they prefer Ned and Charlotte,” Agent Ward said frowning at May while shaking their hands. 

“Chuck is fine,” Chuck said shaking the handsome Agent Ward’s hand. 

Agent Coulson stared at Agent May, hoping that she would discern his glare as disapproval. “Agents May is our pilot and Ward is one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s top operatives.” 

“So you do the espionage and the spy stuff?” Ned asked. 

“Something like that.” Ward answered. “Though for this mission, I think we’ll just be eating pie.” He continued, with a smug smile. He had tried to make a joke, but no one caught it. He sighed when no one laughed. “Good luck finding your cure. If anyone can do it, its FitzSimmons.” 

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.” Ned replied nervously. 

Coulson gave them the grand tour; showing them the cockpit, the lounge, and the bar before heading up to his office. There was no need to show them his office, but he loved to show off his vintage collections of things. “So that’s the tour.” 

“It’s all great really,” Ned said admiring the various trinkets along the wall. Chuck noticed a cellist’s bow tucked far away in the corner of the room. 

“This is all extraordinary, Agent Coulson, this plane, the lab, your office. Do you play the cello?” Chuck asked. 

A faraway look fell over Coulson’s face. “No…I used to have a friend that did.” He looked at Ned and Chuck with a sympathetic smile.  “So are you guys ready to go home? We can give you a few days to decide whether or not you want to proceed.” 

Ned and Chuck turned to look at each other, then turned back to Agent Coulson. “But it’s only…four o’clock,” Ned said, looking at the clock on the wall. “That’s it?” Chuck added shortly after. 

Agent Coulson sat down at his desk and grabbed for a stack of folders. “I didn’t want to pressure you into anything.  If you’d like to stay, I’d suggest you talk it over with FitzSimmons downstairs in the lab.” 

No one spoke for a while. Ned maintained eye contact with Coulson, who gave him a small nod before looking over the files laid out on his desk. Ned finally spoke up. “Oh. We’ll just go down to meet FitzSimmons.” 

Coulson looked up and gave a fatherly smile. “If that’s what you want. I’m sure they’ll be pleased with your decision.” 

Chuck smiled at Agent Coulson and Ned before they turned to leave. She liked that guy. Ned followed shortly after. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” Chuck asked, seeing the solemn look on Ned’s face. 

He didn’t immediately answer. His mind raced with images of the day of his mother’s funeral, of the first and last time he got to kiss Chuck without any plastic barriers. He remembered how warm and soft her skin was. His mind then flashed to seeing Chuck’s body being lifted out of the water on a television screen, and the agony he felt deep in his very soul. His mind then jumped to the first time Chuck kissed him with plastic wrap. He then looked over at Chuck, and the look on her face gave him the answer he needed. 

“Yes.”


	7. 0-8-4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The science begins.

When Ned and Chuck made their way back down to the lab they were greeted promptly at the door by the eager young scientists.  They didn’t say a word; they only looked from Ned to Chuck with the excitement of young puppies.  “Who do I touch first?” He said with a half-smile. His eardrums were instantly greeted with a high pitched cheer from Simmons and he received an awkward pat on the back from Fitz. Chuck laughed, seeing the Piemaker react to FitzSimmons much the same way he reacted to his younger half-brothers. 

“You’re really sure you want to start today?” Simmons asked, barely masking her enthusiasm. “You can think it over…” she said, already setting up the mini brain station. Fitz was already at his station uploading some of the preliminary D.W.A.R.F. data from earlier in the day. Chuck just stood back watching them, amused by the scene playing out in front of her.  This was all really happening and it made her both nervous and exhilarated; she thought it must be akin to what a skydiver must feel as he looks out of the plane for the first time to the ground below. 

“Well, we’re here already…” Ned said looking around as Simmons briskly walked him over and had him take off his shirt and lie down on a small rectangular bed with a round globe with blue interior lights, similar to what he had worn just a few hours prior. In fact, it was the exact same globe, just placed back into its original configuration, Fitz later explained. Ned heard that same faint hum, but this time he wasn’t sweating and he was considerably less nervous. He was still nervous, just considerably less. 

Fitz walked Chuck over to Simmons’ station and took hair and saliva samples faster than Chuck could say “gammelost.” She said as such once Fitz took the swab out of her mouth. 

“You like rare Norwegian cheeses?” Simmons asked, turning away from her computer monitor. 

“My aunts do,” Chuck answered, licking the inside of her cheek. “They’re lifelong cheese enthusiasts.” 

“Oh, well that’s lovely,” Simmons said, quickly turning back to her monitor, then turning towards Ned in the multifunctional brain scanner's bed. This time she was surprising better at calming an obviously uncomfortable Ned.  It seemed to Ned that FitzSimmons was much more at ease when on their home turf;not battling emotions they were obviously not ready to express seemed to help them focus as well. 

“Wait,” Simmons said, turning back towards Chuck. “Isn’t one of those aunts actually your mother?” 

“Yes. It’s complicated…” Chuck answered, impressed. “Good memory, Agent Simmons.” 

“Well…” Simmons nodded in acceptance of the compliment. “And do they know about our little _quest for knowledge?”_

“We haven’t had the opportunity; they just went on a new tour,” Chuck answered back. 

“Tour?” Simmons asked, confused. 

“Oh. They are a synchronized swimming act. They perform together at aquariums and aquatic centers around the world. They were moderately well known in their heyday. They actually just left for England,” Chuck answered. 

“Huh. Well isn’t that unique,” Simmons smiled and returned to her work. 

“Hold on,” Fitz looked up with a surprised look on his face. “Your aunts are _The Darling Mermaid Darlings_?” 

Chuck nodded. “That’s right, Fitz. Is that in my S.H.I.E.L.D. file? How did you know that?” 

Fitz shrugged his shoulders, and looked from Chuck to Simmons. “My mum was a fan when she was a young girl...What?” 

Both Chuck and Simmons shrugged their shoulders with skeptical looks on their faces. 

“What? It’s true! She had a poster in her childhood room at my grandmother’s house,” Fitz suddenly felt like he was on trial. 

Chuck looked at Simmons, who didn’t seem to believe him. “It’s probably true; they weren’t swimming when you would have been growing up; they were barely swimming when I was growing up. Huh. What a small world, Agent Fitz.” 

“Thank you,” Fitz said, nodding to Chuck, then turned to return Simmons’ glare from earlier. “Can we continue?” He then walked over to a case on the desk and clicked it open. 

Fitz then went on to unbox the D.W.A.R.F.s once more and they were doing a full analysis on Chuck at the other side of the lab from Ned and Simmons. He was typing furiously onto his tablet as Chuck asked him about growing up in Scotland. She had read many travel books and even more books written by Scottish writers and was genuinely curious. No one other than Simmons ever asked him about home, and it took him by surprise that a complete stranger could be so kind and sincere. It made him want to work even harder to find them a cure. They usually dealt with evil organizations and dangerous powerful objects, so this was turning into the best mission he and Simmons had ever worked on together. 

“Ok, Ned so you’re going to touch a series of things; we’ll start with plant matter, leaves and fruits, that sort of thing, then we’ll move onto rodents. If it’s not too late we might move onto cadavers.” Simmons said to Ned as he continued to focus on the hum around his head. “Fitz, can you come here? I need another set of hands to manage the timer. “ 

“Yuuuup,” Fitz said, tapping onto his tablet. “I’m just finishing this up…here. You good, Chuck?” 

Chuck was just standing still, worried that if she moved the D.W.A.R.F.s might suddenly attack her. “I’m just fine and dandy...” she said rocking back and forth on her heels.  Fitz tapped a few more times onto his tablet and the D.W.A.R.F.s  one by one flew towards him, and he placed them on his workstation. Chuck breathed a little bit easier and took a seat on a stool nearby. 

“You doing alright, Ned?” Simmons asked leaning over Ned on the rectangular bed. “Do you need to take a break?” 

“No…I’m fine. Ready to unleash my magic finger in the name of _science_!” Ned said, raising his hand from the table, pointing his index finger towards the sky. 

Simmons furrowed her eyebrows and let out a loud audible breath. “Now Ned, magic doesn’t exist. It’s important that you understand that. There is a biological or neurological cause for your ability, but it is _not_ magic. Magic _doesn’t_ exist.” 

Ned smiled. If only Simmons knew how happy her words made him feel. Ned hated magic of any sort. Even if the magic he despised was more of the sleight of hand variety, he appreciated hearing Agent Simmons harbor similar feelings of disgust at the mention of magic. 

“What is it, Ned?” Simmons asked, noticing his smile. “Please tell me you don’t think this is all just _hocus pocus_.” Her lips curled up into a sneer at the words. She turned around sharply when she heard Fitz stifle a laugh. “Shut it, you,” she said, shooting him a look. 

“No. No! I just…dislike magic in every form; for years just the mention of it would induce acid reflux,” Ned answered from his place on the table. 

Simmons grinned at his words. She liked Ned even more now. Working for S.H.I.E.L.D. she often had to listen to people talking about magic being real. She could deal with aliens and 0-8-4s and portals to other worlds, but qualifying these things as magic made her lip curl up into a snarl. It always made Fitz laugh and had become a bit of a running joke between them over the years. “Shall we begin then with the plant matter?” 

Over the course of the next few hours as the sun went down, literally like clockwork, FitzSimmons had Ned touch leaves, flowers, strawberries, and pears, back to life while the screens behind them lit up. One screen showed various centers of Ned’s brain with an assortment of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, and purples. Chuck sat at a nearby chair, wondering what those colors meant.  Another screen monitored his vitals, numbers and lines going up and down. A third screen showed another image of Ned’s brain with colors of green and yellow spiking in different locations at various alternating times. When she got hungry she went to reach for a newly ripened strawberry, but Fitz slapped her hand and strongly suggested she go upstairs to the galley to grab some snacks instead, saying that Simmons would be analyzing their cellular structures later. He then quickly apologized for the hand slap saying he would never do it again, and asked her to please bring down a bowl of crisps to share. Simmons reminded her how to get to the kitchen. 

FitzSimmons continued to have Ned touch pieces of fruit making some small talk about baking and cooking. As Chuck hopped up the steps of the spiral staircase, a shadowy figure appeared across the surveillance feed, out of view of everyone in the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know exactly who that is yet. I have a few scenarios playing out in my head.


	8. Heart of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEGINNING of PART TWO.
> 
> A mysterious stranger is found lingering around the Bus.

PART TWO

 

Chuck made her way through the lounge and found her way to the small kitchenette that the Bus crew used. In it was without a doubt the smallest cheese box that she had ever seen. She couldn’t fathom living on a plane. Then again, she could barely fathom being on a plane, or even less being on a plane while in the air. She began digging in the small cabinet that they used as a pantry and found two bags of chips. 

“Well that’s strange,” she said pulling them out of the cabinet, looking at the labels. They had that same eagle logo she had noticed earlier on the van. She smirked, and closed the cabinet. She jumped with a start. 

“Sorry!” Skye said as she walked into the room, in mid reach for the fridge. I didn’t know you’d be up here.” 

Chuck held up the chip bags. “Got a little hungry,” she said. 

“Fitz sent you, didn’t he?” Skye deadpanned. 

“He did, actually. Yeah.” 

“Honestly for a man his size, I don’t see where he puts it all; he’s like a human garbage disposal. Soda?” Skye offered her a can. 

Chuck took the soda and thanked her.  “Must take a lot of food to fuel that brain of his?” 

“See I thought about that too, but Simmons doesn’t eat nearly as much as he does, so that logic doesn’t hold,” Skye said, leaning her back against the narrow wall behind her. “Ward and I were just about to start a game of Operation, you wanna join us?” 

Chuck pondered the invitation for a moment, glancing toward the path that lead back to the lab and Ned then back to Skye. “Yeah ok. I’m not of much use to anyone down there right now.” 

Skye clapped her hands quickly in a small fit of triumph. “I figured as much; thought you could use some distraction. FitzSimmons has a tendency to lose track of time in the lab. Half the time I expect to catch them in the act, but to date all I ever catch them doing is just inventing things while invading each other’s personal space,” she said wistfully. 

Chuck left one of the chip bags on the counter and took the other with her as she followed Skye to the lounge, where they found Ward setting up the game. Next to the box that contained the game was one of the pies that they had sent them back with earlier that day, more than half eaten. “Did you like the pie, Agent Ward?” 

Ward, ever the gentleman, stood up to greet Chuck.  “It’s delicious! Strawberry Rhubarb is my favorite. I don’t think I’ve had it since I was a kid.” 

Skye, not one to miss an opportunity to chide her Superior Officer, interjected. “Is it as good as Gramsy’s?” 

Ward shot a glance to the young hacker, who was amused. “Yes,” he said curtly. “It’s as good as, if not better than Gramsy’s pie.” 

Chuck didn’t know what was going on with her new companions, but she had a sneaking feeling she’d be entertained. “Who’s going first?” she asked, settling onto the couch. 

 

 -------------------------------------------------------------

 

Melinda May was sitting in the cockpit of the Bus, reading over a report. Eighty five percent of the report was blacked out; or rather she was the one blacking out eighty five percent of the report. Even though the plane was grounded, she often took refuge there to find peace and quiet amid the chaos. It was also one of the only places she could get work done without being disturbed. She had made an effort to park the Bus facing west, and she enjoyed the solitude and the opportunity to watch the sun set over a field full of daisies extending to the horizon. In all of her travels she had never seen anything quite like it. It was idyllic and peaceful, almost as if from another era in time. It was a stark contrast to many of her travel locales as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.  But while Coulson and the rest had taken this for granted and were kicking back with pie and board games, Melinda never did. She knew all too well that when things seem calm, they can still go south in a heartbeat. 

Permanent marker in hand, poring over the document laid out in her lap, she caught a movement in the corner of her eye. She turned quickly towards the surveillance monitor sitting low on the floor of the cockpit, watching as the screen alternated between different locations both in and surrounding the outside of the aircraft. Coulson hadn’t argued when she requested it be installed in her cockpit after their incident in Peru. “Looks like we’ve got company,” she said aloud, putting the cap on the marker. She then made her way through the Bus and out of the cargo hold, unseen by the trio playing games and unnoticed by the trio in the lab. If Melinda May had wanted to be seen she would have made herself visible. If there was a threat to her crew, she would eliminate it, no questions asked. If she could avoid alerting the others, she would. Less was more in her book. 

Once outside the confines of the Bus, Melinda crouched behind one of the wheels of the landing gear, completely encompassed by shadow. Whoever this person was they had walked; there was no evidence of a vehicle in the surrounding field. That meant this person was determined. She sat motionless, listening for her mystery foe. The creak of metal told her that he was entering her airship. In a few quick moves she was back onboard the Bus and crouched behind Lola, Coulson’s prized car. Her mystery man was ten feet away, crouched between Lola and the van; she could see his shoes. She leaped over into Lola’s seats, and in another swift motion, jumped out of the car and onto the intruder, pinning him to the ground beneath her. He wasn’t very powerful, and yet Melinda could still sense that this man was dangerous as he struggled to get free.  She zip tied his wrists together as his feet squirmed behind her. 

“Who are you?” she asked in a near growl. He glared at her through green tinted sunglasses and said nothing. “Fine then, we’ll ask questions later,” she continued, hauling the man up to his feet. Melinda glanced to the lab seeing FitzSimmons focused on their work with Ned. She was relieved they hadn’t noticed the commotion. She liked the kids, but she preferred to keep them in their element and out of hers; they were safer that way. She forced the man through the open cargo area firmly by his shoulders down a corridor and locked him in the Cage. Her steely glare surprisingly seemed to have no effect on him, or if it did, she couldn’t decipher it. She went up to Coulson’s office to bring him up to speed on the situation.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Well who is he?” Coulson said, rising from his desk.

“Don’t know sir, but I took this from him,” she said, placing a very old pistol on his desk. 

“Well then,” Coulson said. “Clearly we have something this man wants. Let’s find out what that is.” 

The two older field agents went downstairs, Coulson went for the Cage, Melinda went to close the cargo hold and scan the perimeter of the Bus. As they walked down the staircase, Coulson stopped for a quick moment to alert Ward. 

“Ward we’ve got company; May has brought him into custody in the Cage.” 

“What?” Ward said, standing up from the couch. “Sir, are there others?” 

“Don’t think so, but May is taking care of things; I need you to take Skye and Charlotte and go to the lab and get FitzSimmons and Ned; keep them safe just in case.” 

Ward nodded, and Coulson continued down the stairs. Skye and Chuck looked at each other and then both turned to Ward. He ushered them both downstairs and into the lab. Skye had her game face on, ready to put her training to use if needed, but knowing that she would still be almost completely useless. Chuck was demonstrably more concerned, but this was certainly not the first time danger had followed her somewhere, and Agent Grant Ward seemed like a man who could keep people safe, so she wasn’t as concerned as she might have been otherwise. 

Ward was in full agent mode by the time they reached the lab doors. FitzSimmons looked panicked as Simmons went to save their data and Ned was putting his shirt back on, a stressed look painted all over his face. He wondered what the sudden commotion was about. 

“Ward, what’s going on? We just saw May run down the stairs and shut the cargo bay and then Coulson came in and told us to stop what we were doing;  then he ran off towards the Cage.” Fitz asked. 

“We’ve had an intruder find their way on board,” Ward answered, ushering Skye and Chuck inside. 

“Out here, in Couer d’Coeurs?” Simmons asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere…no offense,” she continued, scrunching her nose, looking towards Ned and Chuck. 

“None taken, but you’d be surprised what happens out here. Take us for example,” Ned answered. 

Skye stood near a workbench in the corner. “Fair point,” she added, pointing towards Ned in acknowledgement. Chuck nodded in agreement. 

Chuck handed Fitz the opened and half eaten bag of chips. “We were playing a game up in the lounge. Got side tracked.” 

“Ah, that’s alright, no harm. Thanks,” he answered, taking the bag. 

Ward took a gun from the armory, still watching out the doors from the lab. “Skye, can you pull up the surveillance feed from the Cage? Looks like May’s finished securing the perimeter and she’s heading that way.” 

“Sure thing. Simmons, are you guys done with the display?” she asked, sitting down at the workstation and sliding up to the computer. When Simmons nodded and said yes,  that all the data had been secured, she hit a few buttons, and the screen behind FitzSimmons changed to the Cage’s surveillance feed. “Who’s our mystery guest?” 

The team along with Ned and Chuck gathered around the screen. On it they saw May join Coulson, who was standing over the man seated at the table. The man looked disheveled and tired, with dark glasses, a hat, scarf, and gloves. 

Ned and Chuck stared at the screen, their eyes widened and their jaws both dropped. 

“Dad?” Chuck asked. She thought she felt her heart fall down to her feet and the color quickly drained from her face. 

The team turned towards Ned and Chuck. “DAD?” they all asked in unison. Fitz took a handful of chips and crunched down on them. 

On the screen they could see Charles Charles say something to Coulson and May then they all looked at the camera in the upper corner of the room. Charles Charles waved. 

“Hi, Button Button," he said.

 

 


	9. Ballad of the Blue Berets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles Charles has been missing for five years. Coulson and Chuck both want answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. I hope it was worth the wait. Oh and as they say...
> 
> #itsallconnected

“Well this just got more interesting,” Skye said, spinning on her heels, looking to Chuck. “You guys look like you just saw a ghost.” 

Ned blinked and shut his mouth, which had fallen open in shock. Chuck stood motionless, her face frozen somewhere between fear and total emotional breakdown. 

“Uhhh…Ned? Chuck? You guys want to fill us in on… _your father,_ it seems _?”_ Simmons asked, placing a hand on Chuck’s arm, which seemed to snap her out of her trance. 

Chuck reached for Simmons’ hand and clutched it with both of hers momentarily. “Well technically he’s not a.. _ghost…_  

The team all then stared at Ned who still had not said anything. The only sound was the faint hum of electricity. Fitz, still eating chips, broke the silence. “So _that_ wasn’t in your file. You undeaded Charles Charles!”

“Technically I did,” Chuck said sheepishly. “Surprise?” Seeing how the four SHIELD agents did not understand, she continued. “Ned intended to only undead him for sixty seconds like we always do, but…I couldn’t resist the temptation of having my father back. So I tricked Ned using a glove. We’ve worked through it since…but dad ran off about five years ago.” 

“Well technically he didn’t so much as run off as stole my car in the middle of the night,” Ned chimed in. “We haven’t seen him since.” 

“This is going to complicate things somehow. I have no idea how, but I’m sure it will,” Skye remarked, turning back towards the screen. 

Ward nodded in agreement, crossing his arms. “You guys should probably go in there. Follow me.” Ward glanced towards the rest of his team; they dispersed immediately. 

“We’ll just stay here and…” Simmons said, suddenly busing herself at her workstation. 

Fitz sat his chips on the table. “Work on some of this data,” he continued. 

“We definitely won’t be listening in…” Skye said, typing away furiously onto her laptop, which she had left in the lab earlier. 

“Or watching the live feed,” Simmons said, flipping through some loose pages. 

“While eating,” mumbled Fitz as he flipped on the holotable, while eating another chip. 

Ned looked at the three of them, not in disbelief but in a fond appreciation. The way they had so quickly taken to him made him feel warm, like he was wrapped up in a blanket; a kind, teasing, family-sized blanket. 

On the monitor they saw a stern faced Coulson open his mouth to speak. “Guys, I told you we had protocol for a reason!” And then he sighed heavily and waved his hand to signal. “Time for a family reunion it seems. I hope this one goes better than the last one I was a part of.” May glanced to the side towards Coulson and shifted her weight slightly. 

As Ward led Ned and Chuck down the corridors of the plane, all the feelings of anger and pain they had pushed far down into the pits of their stomachs came back up like a wave of nausea. Ahead of them, Grant Ward clenched his jaw and his fist repeatedly. It was a stark contrast to his mannerisms earlier in the day. 

“So Ned, I know that you and I had an understanding last time we met, but it didn’t account for rogue undead family members wandering the streets and finding their way onto my airplane,” Coulson said, arms crossed leaning against the wall of the room. Melinda May stood next to him, her face showing a hint of both amusement and concern. Ward lingered in the doorway staring down Charles Charles. 

Ned ran his hand through his hair and looked to the camera in the corner of the room.  “Well…you see…we had…” he stammered. 

While Ned tried to find a way to explain why Charles Charles was sitting in front of them, Chuck timidly walked around to the side of the table where he was seated. Still handcuffed to the table, he turned towards her. The tears welled up in her eyes as her mouth struggled to remember how to form words. He was still bandaged and wearing sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, not that she would be able to see them, since they were twenty years decomposed.  But Charles Charles looked different to her somehow. It had been five years since he drove off in Ned’s car, but it was more than just the passage of time. Chuck had already lived with the loss of her father for twenty years before he chose to abandon her again for another five. Twenty years of longing followed by five years of wounded anger. 

“Hi Button Button,” he said, his voice raspy. “I can explain.” 

“Don’t you dare _Button Button_ me,” she said, her voice quiet but trembling. She licked her lips, inhaled deeply, and stood taller, finding her inner strength. “Where the _hell_ have you been?” she asked, her voice growing louder and more stable. “You _left_ us; l _eft ME._ How could you…do that?” 

His daughter suddenly shouting at him did not affect Charles Charles in any visible way. “Now…I can explain, Button Button.” 

“Stop it. Stop. Just… you can’t _Button Button_ your way out of this,” she said raising her arms in protest. “Why are you even here, dad?” 

“You know, it’s funny you should ask,” he said, shifting back in his chair. 

“We’re not laughing,” Ned firmly interjected. 

“Why did you sneak aboard _my airplane_ Mr. Charles?” Coulson asked. 

“You couldn’t have…I don’t know, called? Or better yet, come back, or even better still, not run away?” Chuck’s eyes were wide with anger and tears that refused to fall in a daughterly defiance. “Where did you go?” 

Melinda May felt sympathy for Chuck, but she could quickly tell that neither she nor Coulson was going to get any answers if they kept letting their emotions run rampant. So she decided to become the intermediary. 

“Phil, I want to know why he’s here right now just as much as you do, believe me, but I’m certain that it’s probably related to why he ran off five years ago,” she said, placing her hand on Coulson’s upper arm. “So tell us Mr. Charles, why did you abandon your only daughter five years ago?” 

“I had to take care of some unfinished business,” he said, sounding very tired. 

“Business from before you died, you mean,” Melinda continued. 

“Ned had said that Dwight Dixon was after something I owned.” 

Ned turned his head towards Coulson, confused. “The pocket watch? What does that have to do with anything?” Then he looked between Chuck and Charles. “You said we had nothing to worry about if he had the pocket watch.” 

“I said it was his insurance policy you had to worry about. What I might have failed to mention was that the pocket watch was his insurance policy.” Ned wanted to touch Charles Charles and be done with it all; the man just got under his skin. 

Ned’s mouth moved but no sounds came out. His eyebrows arched to unrealistic heights. “You…you…didn’t think to MENTION THAT?” 

Chuck, flummoxed, slapped her father’s bandaged face. “You are not a good man,” she said, her voice trembling once more. “Which of course I should have known once I learned the truth about Lily and Vivian. You ruin people’s lives, dad!”  She let out a long sigh. “I’m…sorry.”  Even though she believed what she said, he was still her father and her emotions were swirling. She felt sick. 

Melinda wanted to wrap her arms around Chuck, but pressed Mr. Charles for more information. “What’s the significance of the pocket watch?” 

“I don’t know exactly,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Explain.” Melinda said curtly, leaning over the table, viewing her reflection in his sunglasses. 

“We got them in Egypt while we were Blue Berets,” he said. Melinda raised an eyebrow and then he continued. “We being myself, Dwight Dixon…” 

“…and my dad,” Ned finished. 

“When the three watches were together strange things would happen. We could get people to tell us things, but only when the three of us were together.” 

Phil moved across the room. “You had the power of suggestion?” 

“It was more than that. We were better in combat. We were stronger. We could make things appear.” 

“Do you still have your watch?” Phil urgently asked. 

Chuck crossed over towards Ned, refusing to look at her father. “Lily gave it back to me after we told her I wasn’t dead. It’s at home in my jewelry box.” 

“And the others?” Phil asked. 

Ned shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dwight Dixon had his when he died, and I haven’t seen my father in over twenty years.” 

Phil looked at the camera. “Fitzsimmons, Skye, go to Ned’s apartment, then find Dwight Dixon’s grave. Retrieve those watches.” 

Over the intercom, Skye answered. “Already headed that way, boss.” 

“Wait!” Ned shouted at the camera, waving his arms. 

“Ned?” Phil asked. 

“Call Emerson. He knows where the body is buried.” 

“Skye? You get that?” Phil asked. 

“Got it,” came the response through the intercom. 

“Phil, what are you thinking?” Melinda asked. 

“It might be nothing. But let’s just be sure,” he answered, giving her a look that she understood to be _I’ll tell you what I’m thinking once the civilians are gone._

“So you left to track down the other watches,” Melinda resumed her interrogation. “You thought they could somehow do what? Heal your body?” 

“She’s good,” Charles Charles said, turning towards Coulson, his lizard lips forming a smile. 

“You have no idea.” Coulson said, nonplussed. 

“I thought it was worth a try. Ned, your dad is a slippery eel. I’ve spent the last five years trying to find him.” 

“But you never found him,” Melinda pressed on. “So where have you been?” 

“I found a guy. A company. That promised…things. My body was literally falling apart, and the things they promised… I signed up.” 

“What guy? What company?” Melinda asked, looking wearily towards Ward and Coulson. 

“I didn’t get a name. I never saw his face.” 

“WHAT. COMPANY.” Melinda repeated, unblinkingly. 

“Cybertek.” Charles Charles answered. 

The three agents exchanged a knowing look. Ned and Chuck looked back and forth between them, desperate for explanation. 

 

 

 

 


	10. Finding Your Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Fitzsimmons take a drive. Melinda May continues to interrogate Charles Charles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the delay; sometimes life gets chaotic, and then sometimes the writing doesn't come no matter how hard you will it to be. I hope you enjoy this chapter as I really liked how it formed itself.

“They say everyone’s got weird family stuff.” 

“Says the girl raised in an orphanage.” 

“That’s a bit harsh, Fitz,” Simmons said as she gently backhanded him on the bicep. He exaggerated a wince and a snarl in response. She grinned in response, illuminated by only the dim blue lights emanating from the dashboard. 

Fitzsimmons and Skye drove in the SUV down the darkened highway back towards The Pie Hole. The occasional streetlamp illuminated small patches of the daisy fields on an otherwise moonless, black night. Skye had called driver and Fitz had immediately called shotgun. Simmons had not cared; she sat in the seat behind Fitz leaning forward between the two. 

“Sorry Skye,” Fitz winced again, this time genuinely. “I didn’t realize what came out of my mouth until it actually came out of my mouth.  I…I didn’t mean…that was stupid of me…I can’t believe I said that..I-” 

“Fitz! Dude. It’s fine,” Skye said, laughing. “It’s fine really; it’s late, we’re tired, there’s been a lot going on today. I know you didn’t mean that.  And besides, you didn’t say anything that isn’t true. I _was_ raised in an orphanage.” 

“I don’t really know my dad...” Fitz blurted out, still trying to save face. “That’s…my weird family stuff.” 

“And my family is so English we never talk about our issues, we just lie to ourselves and pretend everything is perfect, and we strive for said perfection not really talking about the amount of pressure that we put on ourselves and allow others to put on us as well…” Simmons said wildly without taking a breath. 

“Ooookay, I think that’s more of a _Jemma Simmons_ thing than a weird family thing.” Skye cut her off before she went too far off on a tangent. Jemma shrugged her shoulders as Fitz nodded just out of her line of sight. “But I appreciate the effort guys.” She smiled. “How long have you two been awake?” 

The two scientists looked at each other in the lights of the dashboard, cocking their heads in corresponding angles; Skye was convinced they were somehow communicating telepathically. 

“Only fourteen hours?” Simmons replied sheepishly. 

“Such a little liar!” Skye shouted with a sly grin, a little louder than she intended. “I heard you both get out of your bunks at three o’clock this morning meaning you’ve both been up for…” Skye paused seemingly trying to calculate the amount of time that would have passed since three a.m., Skye herself having been awake since seven. “Well a lot of hours! I’m swinging by a Starbucks; I’m exhausted. I can’t imagine how tired you two must be.” 

Fitz and Simmons stammered incoherently. They were not tired in the least. In fact, they were both welcoming the work as a distraction from thoughts about the other that Ned and Chuck had stirred about what seemed like a lifetime ago. Skye laughed to herself, hoping that they did not see her face in the shadows.

 “Do they even have Starbucks around here? I mean…”  Simmons said hesitantly. 

“…and would it even be open at this hour?” Fitz finished the thought. 

“Oh,” Skye responded, slightly dejected, realizing that Simmons was probably, as usual, right. And Fitz was too, probably. “Well we’ll have to break into The Pie Hole then.” 

“What? NO! No. We can’t,” Simmons said, alarmed, reaching forward in her seat to clutch at Skye’s shoulder.  Fitz shifted in his seat to face Skye. If it were not dark, Skye was convinced she would have seen his face drain of color. 

“Relax. I have the key,” Skye said, laughing. “Funny how you two have no problem digging up a dead guy but unlocking a door- _that_ you’re uncomfortable with.” 

The two scientists then proceeded to berate Skye with explanations laced with expletives. “Okay, okay! I was only kidding! Geez! You kiss your mother with that mouth, Fitz? And maybe some decaf for you,” she said, glancing at Simmons in the rearview mirror, her arms now folded neatly in her lap, staring a hole into the seat in front of her. 

“No really, something happened today, and not the whole ‘Chuck’s dad was with Cybertek’ either; you guys are acting weirder than normal.” Skye expected another tongue lashing, but was greeted with the sound of the two scientists twisting away in their seats and static from the radio, the signal long since faded. “All right then…well if either of you want to talk about it, you know, I’m kinda always here. Like I’m sitting right here…now… _and_ you know where I live, because it’s where you also live,” she said again as they continued in silence the rest of the trip. She made a mental note to ask Chuck about what happened once things settled down with her dad, which Skye realized might never settle down, so she’d just have to look for a window of opportunity to distract her like she did earlier with the board games. 

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile back at the Bus, Melinda May’s interrogation of Charles Charles continued. 

“Wait. What is Cybertek?” The confusion could be read across Ned’s eyebrows as his eyes searched Coulson and May for answers. 

“Care to recap for our audience, May?” Ward responded sarcastically, gesturing towards Ned and a still disbelieving Chuck. The vein along Coulson’s temple became more visible as he clenched his jaw. 

May stared daggers at Ward, and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, just as she had hoped. After a heavy lidded blink, she slowly turned toward their guests. “We’re not entirely sure, but this isn’t the first time we’ve heard that name. We think they are an evil corporation that’s been funding a project code named Centipede, with the aim of engineering super soldiers. 

“Dad?” Chuck croaked, her voice cracking with emotion and lack of use. “What did they do to you? She studied his gauze covered face for any indication of what might have happened in the five years he was missing. 

“Oh I’m…I’m okay Charlotte,” he said, not really looking at anyone or anything in the room. “They did some experimental surgeries, did a lot of skin testing, tried some skin grafts…” The concern on Chuck’s face slowly washed into confusion and then horror as her father slowly moved his handcuffed hands to his temples to remove his sunglasses, revealing not the twenty-years-decayed eyes she had seen when they had dug him up, but instead two brand new eyes with faintly glowing irises and pristine corneas. 

“Woah!” were the reactions of both Ned and Chuck, nearly jumping out of their skin; the SHIELD agents, having seen bionic eyes a few weeks ago, remained calm and exchanged knowing, concerned looks. Chuck clutched at the wall behind her. Coulson mumbled the name “Akela”. 

“They gave me new eyes,” he said the corners of his lips drew upwards into something resembling a smile. 

Ward moved closer and spoke first. “Those eyes of yours, have you ever received messages through them?” he asked, his square jaw tensing as he leaned forward to look into the bionic eyes, seeming to look for some sort of message. “Like a text message that only you can see?” 

“No.” Charles Charles shook his head. Phil let out a breath he did not know he was holding. “I was one of the first, they said. The messaging system wasn’t successful until the fifth version of the bionic eye. No fail switch either. Thankfully. It shorted out as they were implanting them.” 

Over in the corner, Chuck’s face was still as white as a sheet, and the tears she refused to cry earlier quietly ran down her face. Ned wanted nothing more than a tarp or a raincoat so that he could safely hug her in his arms. 

“Have you ever heard the name Ian Quinn?” Coulson asked, his arms crossed, tension again creeping up into his shoulders with every breath. 

“No.” 

“What about the Clairvoyant?” 

“Is that a comic book character?” 

May glared at Charles Charles. 

“Err…no, no Clairvoyant,” he answered uncomfortably. 

“Mr. Charles, how long were you at this facility? Do you know where it was?” 

“Someplace in California, and no…I lost track after a while.” 

Coulson looked from Charles Charles to May, trying to glean whether he was telling the truth or not. Melinda indicated that he was with an eyebrow. “Did they allow you to leave voluntarily?” he asked. 

Charles Charles chuckled to himself. “Let’s just say a guy owed me a favor.” He winked one of his bionic eyes at Ned. 

Ward, shaking his head, pushed away from the table. “What else did they do to you?” he asked, his face twisted into an unconvinced smirk. 

“They took a hell of a lot of blood, I’ll tell you that.” 

Coulson's silence was only matched by the agitation on his face.

"Phil, do you think this has something to do with T.A.H.I.T.I.?" May asked, the concern evident on her face. Seeing him like this made her nervous.

"I don't know, May. We have no way of knowing right now."

Ned, having regained some of his composure, spoke up. “Wait. Do they…do they _know…_ how you…why you…you know…about… _what I did…_ and why you’re… _well, you?”_  

Charles Charles’ glowing red eyes once more stared directly at Ned. They had had a complicated relationship to say the least, with Ned inadvertently killing him, then reviving him, and dating his daughter, who was also revived.  “No, Nedly Deadly, I didn’t tell them I was a walking, talking corpse,” he said, sitting back in his chair, sizing up Ned. “They needed bodies, I needed body parts. I didn’t ask questions, and neither did they. Your secret’s apparently very safe,” he said, gesturing as much as he could with his arms handcuffed to the table. Ned’s eyebrows scrunched into a scowl, and he stretched his fingers instinctually. “Who are these guys, anyway?” Charles Charles asked. 

“You don’t know?” Chuck asked. “You broke onto their plane, and you don’t know who they are? I don’t know who _you_ are…I don’t know that I ever did.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue that Coulson found in his suit pocket. Melinda May smiled imperceptivity when Coulson’s back was turned. Dying had turned him into a softie. 

The bandaged man who moments earlier had seemed stern and hostile suddenly let the air out of his lungs and slouched his shoulders forward. His red eyes now looked forlorn instead of terrifying. “I was on my way to the Pie Hole when these guys showed up. I overheard those scientists talking about _curing you,”_ he said, looking at Ned. “I had to follow you, because if you’re cured…I’m stuck like this forever.” He sighed heavily and looked at his daughter, who in turn was looking at him like the monster he had always been, long before he looked like one. “I’m sorry Charlotte for everything I did, and everything I didn’t do. And everything I should have done. You deserved a better father than me.” 

Chuck, realizing what his words meant, began sobbing, her head shaking and body trembling as she slumped against the wall behind her. Ned felt numb, all sensation dropping suddenly from his body. Coulson and May caught each other’s eyes and said nothing. Ward felt paralyzed, not knowing where to look; this was a private conversation of which he had no business. 

“Ned, I came back for you to kill me.”


	11. Of Pies and Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and FitzSimmons retrieve the remaining watches. Ned and Chuck deal with some upsetting news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not abandon this story. Please stay with me. I hope you enjoy. There is still more to come.

After thirty more minutes of silence Skye and FitzSimmons arrived back at The Pie Hole, where Simmons and Skye went directly for the coffee maker and Fitz directly for the kitchen full of yesterday’s pies. Simmons and Skye shared an amused look while Fitz tore into a whole blackberry and peach pie. He neither noticed nor cared, and muttered something about pie being brain food. 

“Tell her, Jemma!” he said, his mouth full of the delicious and dripping pie. He went into the back of the kitchen to search for more. 

Simmons was too tired to laugh or argue, the silence of the drive finally allowed her time to wind down after a very long day. She nodded his way and waved him off dismissively. She hoped he would find a napkin as well. 

“So are you going to tell me what happened earlier?” Skye asked quietly as she stared at the bubbling coffee maker, her eyes heavy with fatigue, trying to will it to brew faster. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to…” Simmons attempted to shut down Skye’s questions by not making eye contact and reaching for coffee mugs a few feet away. “We’ve just had a long day is all.” 

Skye did not buy it, but she played along, hoping this sudden crash in Simmons’ energy would reveal some glimmer of insight as to the inner workings of Simmons’ relationship with Fitz. She had been fascinated by their closeness since she first joined the team. She was a patient woman, and she would figure them out. There were a lot of pieces to their intricate puzzle, and she would eventually get Miss Genius to crack and spill her secrets. 

“Chuck seems like a really nice person,” Skye tried a different approach. 

“Oh, yes! She’s delightful. Death really doesn’t seem to have affected her demeanor at all. She’s got such a rosy outlook on things. I mean…” her words trailed as Fitz came back through the door carrying four pies, three forks and a fist full of napkins. 

“You are going to make yourself sick,” she scolded him. 

Fitz tutted back at her then ignored her completely as he tucked in for more pie. 

“You know we’re here just to get coffee. We’ve got to go upstairs, retrieve the watch, then go dig up that Dixon guy.” 

“Since when do you do what you’re told, Skye? It’s a _pie._ And we’ve had a rough go of it today,”

He motioned between himself and Simmons. She nodded in agreement, stealing a bite of pie from Fitz’s plate. 

“It’s technically _four_ pies, Fitz. _Five_ , actually, if you count the one you grabbed before you went back to the kitchen,” Simmons corrected him. 

He frowned. “Spoil sport. And anyway we’re going to need our energy if we’re going to be digging up a grave. _And..and_ I brought them out for _all of us…_ not just me. I’m _sharing._ See?” He waved his palm over the pie plates like a blackjack dealer in Vegas. “ _Sharing_.” 

“Wait…I thought you’d have some sort of gadget that would do that for us,” Skye replied as she poured out the freshly brewed pot of coffee in the mugs on the counter. 

Fitz wiped his mouth which was curled into the smuggest grin Skye had seen up to this point. “Oh I do. I do. But it’s back on the Bus.” 

“Are you serious?” Skye questioned, now feeling both dejected and annoyed. 

Simmons chimed in because Fitz’s mouth was full again. “Sometimes Fitz prefers to do manual labor instead of using his tools to prove his masculinity.” Fitz glared at her on queue. “So we’re all stuck with shovels." The sarcasm dripped from her voice, making Skye think this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. 

“Great…” 

“See, you’re going to need your strength. Eat some pie!” Skye suddenly wished she had a shovel to wipe the smug from Fitz’s face. 

Instead, Skye shrugged her shoulders and drank her coffee, grabbing a fork and a pie of her own. After a few minutes both of the girls were finished eating, and they along with Fitz, pie in hand, went upstairs to Ned and Chuck’s apartment. 

“Okay, we’ve already wasted enough time, let’s get the pocket watch and head to the cemetery,” Skye said as she turned the lock, throwing shade towards Fitz. 

They opened the door and flipped on the switch to find a simple but stylish apartment. It looked out of an old 1940s movie, muted greens, and rich browns. There was even an old victrola-style record player. In fact the only thing that appeared modern was the television in the corner. 

“This is so cute. It looks like a Norman Rockwell painting,” Simmons said, unconsciously squeezing Fitz’s arm. 

“Mmmhmm. Her jewelry box is probably in the bedroom. Let’s go,” Fitz said with the faintest of smiles on his face. 

There were only a few doors in the cozy apartment, so they took a logical guess and picked the one at the end of the short hallway. When they entered, they were greeted with the same nostalgic décor, but also the engineering feats that allowed Ned and Chuck to share the same bed, which involved a lot of clear plastic and metal framing. There was a stark contrast. 

“That is impressive. Jemma look at this!” Fitz said as he moved over to the bed. She smiled at his enthusiasm. He could never resist a gadget. 

Simmons walked towards the dresser. “I feel like we’re invading their privacy, Fitz…” she said, noticing the small art deco jewelry box that sat in the corner next to a worn, faded picture in a frame. She opened the jewelry box and picked up the watch. But her eyes turned back to the photo. Simmons picked it up to examine it further and her heart broke a little. In the frame was an eight year old Ned, all eyebrows and smiles on the ground being tickled by a seven year old Chuck, all dark curls and freckles. They were wearing some sort of costumes with over-sized shoes and hats that had fallen to the ground. 

Fitz took a few steps over and poked her in the side, startling her. “You find the watch?” he asked. Simmons quickly went to put the photo down on the dresser and in one move held out her hand, showing him the watch. 

“Excellent!” Fitz said, taking it and flipping it over in his hand. “What’s that you’re looking at?” 

“It’s…an old photo. Of Ned and Chuck.” She turned her head towards him, he was only a few inches away, his chin just over her shoulder. She could smell the raspberry pie on his breath. “Look how happy they are Fitz.” 

His face twisted in opposite directions- his mouth formed a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Do you think we can pull it off?” 

“I think we have to try,” she answered. If Simmons moved even an inch she would bump into Fitz. She stood completely still, still looking at the laughing children in the photo. “Eternity being so sans until-“ 

“-Twice I have lived forever in a smile,” Fitz finished. It was the engraving on the frame, an e.e. cummings quote. “You know, I always liked e. e. cummings. I mean, as far as poets go. What was that one from school about the beach? ‘For whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it’s always our self we find in the sea.’ 

Skye, leaning patiently against the doorframe this whole time, checked her watch and sighed. On the one hand she wanted to watch how this played out and on the other she was getting punchy. “Hey dead poet society, grab the watch and let’s go. We’ve got a body to dig up _and_ rebury before sunrise, and I’d like to sleep at some point tonight.” 

They turned around in that synced up way they did. “Right here/Just tidying up,” they said over each other and followed Skye out of the room. Then Simmons stopped in her tracks. 

“What is it?” Skye asked. 

“It’s just…d’you think we should bring them a change of clothes? We did sort of catch them unawares today,” Simmons asked in return. 

“Not a bad idea,” Skye said, impressed in the scientist’s thoughtfulness. She and Simmons quickly grabbed some clothes from the closet and undergarments from the dresser, allowing Fitz to eat a bit more pie. 

Once back in the van, Skye thankfully found a functioning radio station again; and before she could look at the address sent to her by Emerson Cod, she turned to find her two passengers had already fallen asleep. She rolled her eyes. This was hardly field work, and they could not even stay awake. They snoozed almost the entire way to the cemetery.

 

* * *

 

Chuck, shaken by her father’s revelation, did the only thing a daughter could do in response. Crying and trembling, she walked to her father and crawled up into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. The cotton of his scarf muffled her sobs while Ned looked on helpless with the SHIELD agents. 

Coulson placed his hand on Ned’s shoulder, and quietly excused himself and his team so that Ned, Chuck, and her father could be alone. He only asked that he not re-dead Charles Charles until he spoke with FitzSimmons. Ned nodded in agreement, fully understanding that they would likely want to collect some data about the process. As they left, Ward was silent and May offered a handshake before shutting the door behind her, leaving him alone with his thoughts as Chuck cried hers out in her father’s arms. 

“You turned out so great without me Button Button,” he spoke softly into her hair. “You gave me five more years that I never should have had, and I was selfish to spend them without you.” 

Ned sat down in the chair across from them. He hated the man, but that was no longer important, if it ever had been to begin with, because Chuck loved her father deeply, despite his shortcomings, because an eight year old girl loves her father unconditionally, and does not know if the man that tells her bedtime stories is a good man or a shifty, possibly criminal, man. In the years that he was dead, she built up stories and inflated his worth, because not knowing him caused a profound ache. When she created their second chance she had done so with the hope that he could live up to the stories she had imagined in her head for twenty years. The days and weeks that followed his departure had been devastating.

Ned felt that pain too. His own father had abandoned him; his own mother had died. He had been the direct cause of Chuck’s pain. He opened his mouth but no words formed there. Instead he found his own cheeks wet from tears he had not realized he had been crying. 

“If you’re okay, Charlotte. Shhh. Tell me what life has been like since I left in Ned’s car. How are Lily and Vivian?” His voice was as worn as his body. 

Chuck’s sobbing lessened, and she sucked in a deep breath. She wiped her eyes with his scarf. She began to tell him of her life with the cheese-loving ladies she had known as her aunts. She did not mention the crippling loneliness she endured or the agoraphobia that had plagued them. She forgot the fight that caused them to not speak for a year. She sold him a highlight reel of events, because even in her sorrow, anger, and pain, she could not cause him any. 

* * *

 

Coulson called up Skye to get the status on the watches and to update his team on the situation. She moved away from the grave and sat under a tree while Fitz and Simmons continued to dig. “We’re working on it. Yeah. No things are fine here. It takes time to dig a grave. We should be done in an hour and back on the road. Wow. How’s Chuck? I’ll tell them. Thanks A.C.”

Skye, exhausted, leaned her head back on the tree. In front of her was Simmons, who could barely make a dent with her shovel in the earth below, and Fitz, who was vomiting up all of the pie he had eaten in the previous hour. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to believe that the tree behind her was her soft bunk back on the Bus. Then she opened them with a start. Simmons had accidentally thrown a shovel full of dirt at her face. Simmons apologized profusely. Knowing there was no other alternative, she pulled herself up, grabbed her shovel, and got back to work. While Simmons went to the van to get a drink of water for Fitz, a paisley print pajama clad Emerson Cod drove up. “Not a word to Pie Boy or Dead Girl that I came to help. If they find out I’ll get hugged for a month straight.”

Skye smiled. “Oh thank God.” She wiped her hands on her pants and reached for a handshake. “You must be Emerson Cod. We spoke on the phone.” 

“MmmHmmm. Not a word, dork squad,” he said. 

“Understood,” Skye said, still smiling. 

Emerson turned to FitzSimmons. “Not. A. Word.” 

“Mums the word/Not a peep,” they chimed over each other. Simmons was standing over Fitz who was sipping his water.               

“Coulson said that Chuck’s dad has asked to be re-deadened. Ned’s agreed not to do it until you guys get back, in case you wanted to run some tests.” 

“Wow. Okay,” Simmons nodded. Fitz then dry heaved some more. She rubbed his back as he doubled over.

“I told you not to eat so much pie…” Simmons whispered. “Drink some water.”

“Shut up Jemma, you’re not helping.” He was sweating; the combination of the over exertion from digging and the excessive amount of sugar and carbohydrates left him a bit shaky and weak.  He stood up to prove to Simmons he was fine, only to find himself doubled over again. “This is no time for ‘I told you so’ again.” Simmons rolled her eyes and did her best not to laugh. “But, thanks for the water.” He managed a feeble smile. 

Emerson chuckled as he turned back to Skye. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”

“So you’re a private investigator huh?” she asked, jumping onto her shovel, throwing all of her weight down, willing it to sink into the dirt.

“Yup. You got something needs investigating?”

“No. But if you ever need any help with a case, give me a call. I’m pretty good with computers. Word on the street is you’re going to be down a secret weapon soon.”

Emerson smirked and looked her over. “You _do_ owe me,” he said, rubbing his chin in his hand. I’ll remember that. Deal.”

They continued digging, and eventually FitzSimmons resumed digging as well. Without pomp or circumstance they reached the casket. Fitz climbed in and pulled it open. The body smelled horrible, as it had never been embalmed. “Simmons!” he shouted.

“Suck it up, Fitz, let’s go!” Skye shouted.

"You've got this Fitz!" Simmons cheered on from above.

He whined and grumbled as he dug around the pockets of the deceased Dwight Dixon. But he was a man, and he would act like one, vomit be damned. So he dug around a dead man’s chest for a pocket watch.

“Got it! Now pull me out guys!” he shouted. Simmons and Emerson each extended a hand and hoisted him back up out of the hole. He dusted himself off and coughed into his sleeve. “Right then, let’s fill this bad boy back up!”

Skye walked over and took the shovel his hands. His protest was almost believable. “How about you and Simmons head back to the Bus while Emerson and I fill the grave back up.” Emerson raised an eyebrow, and Skye shook her head in response. “Trust me, it’ll be better. You’ll be more needed there than I will.” Emerson’s side eye was enough to make Simmons uncomfortable. “I’m sure Mr. Cod wouldn’t mind dropping me off at the Bus when we’re done.”

“MmmHmm.” Emerson sighed, throwing more dirt back into the hole. It was still the middle of the night.

FitzSimmons thanked Emerson then went back to the van and drove off, leaving Skye and Emerson to fill the hole.

“So why is Dixon in Charles Charles’ grave?” Skye asked.

Emerson shook his head. “Mmm Mmm. No. I am not doing this. Use your head kid.”

“I was just a- ohhhh. Got it.” Skye made the connection. “Sorry, it’s four in the morning.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“It’s been a long day.” Skye threw more dirt into the grave.

"Dork squad getting on your nerves?” Emerson asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Skye stifled her laugh. “You have no idea.”

Emerson chuckled, then they got back to throwing the dirt back on the casket. They finished filling in the hole together in peaceful silence. As the sun came up, they loaded into Emerson’s car and drove off back to Coeur d’ Coeurs. Skye fought off sleep, her head nodding forward.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” Emerson said.

“Thanks.”

The dim light of day began to rise up behind them. In the remaining shadows, Ned’s father drove off in the opposite direction, completely unseen.

 

 


	12. Holographic Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FitzSimmons return to the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STAY WITH ME! 
> 
> We're almost done. I wanted to finish all in one last chapter, but I found a really great act break. You won't have to wait much longer for the ending. We're almost there. Thanks for reading!

The drive back to the Bus was a quiet affair. After a feeble attempt at arguing Fitz agreed to let Simmons drive while he reclined in the passenger seat. Within minutes he fell fast asleep, which made Simmons laugh. He had the uncanny ability to sleep anywhere at any time. Once in their Academy days, she had once found Fitz snoring outside the Boiler Room waiting for her tucked behind large steam pipe, and more recently she had found him on more than one occasion asleep in the cockpit while May flew the plane. She was glad for the silence; she hadn’t been able to be alone in her own thoughts all day. All day she had been formulating ideas on how to help Ned while also trying to process the idea that Fitz had all but admitted that she was the Snow White to his Prince Charming. At least that was how he saw them in the context of naming the D.W.A.R.F.s.  She didn’t know what that meant in any other context, or so she kept repeating to herself in her head.  Time seemed to go by slowly as she glanced at the clock. 

Fitz shifted and mumbled as the van bounced in a pot hole. She turned to see him smiling in his sleep, even as he grumbled. They passed the daisy fields, and as the sun was rising she found the image breathtaking. She let the silence take over while she let the data they had collected earlier run through her head. Molecular biology and making hypotheses calmed her. 

The miles passed slowly and the black of night was shifting to the purple of morning. They passed over another pot hole; Fitz did not wake, but his mumbles were more audible. 

“Timing...love…every…Jemma…” he stammered as he shifted towards the door. 

Hearing Fitz’ unconscious words made her choke on air and almost run off the road. If Skye were there she knew she would never hear the end of it. She lowered her speed as she tried to regain her composure. 

“Did he just? No…he’s asleep…means nothing…” she thought to herself, shaking her head, fighting off nervous laughter. She turned again to see him still sleeping, still smiling. “Means nothing…” 

She turned back to the road, torn between driving around pot holes so as to not disturb him or accelerating through them to see if he would say anything else.  In the end decided to be a better driver, but that proved not to matter as Fitz began to shuffle and mutter anyway. 

“No…no…Jemma…Jemma…no…worked…no…jumped…oh God…Jemma…no…nooo…” he mumbled, his face now pained. 

“Oh dear…” she sighed. She knew he had very obviously been upset by her jump, but hearing this made her stomach twist in knots.  They hadn’t really talked about what happened at any length other than a short conversation that night where she had called him her hero. Despite their closeness they really didn’t talk about that sort of thing. When one of them was hurt or upset simply being in the presence of the other was all that was needed. Talking about your feelings was simply uncouth. 

“Fitz…,” she said quietly, hoping to wake him, but not alarm him. “Fitz…Fitz…we’re almost home, why don’t you…Fitz,” she began to crescendo. “Fitz, wake up…we’re almost...,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh sod it,” she sighed.  “FITZ!” she shouted. “I need you to wake up!” 

Fitz blinked his eyes open to see the Coeur d’Coeurs daisy fields. He sat there, motionless, still troubled by his dream. He caught his reflection in the side mirror; his forehead and cheek were squashed against the window. And as he became more aware, he wondered if he had talked in his sleep, which he had a sinking feeling he had. He moved his jaw from side to side and let out a huge yawn. Simmons often teased him about being part cat when he woke up from a nap. 

“No need to shout, Jemma…” he grumbled as he shifted his face and body away from the cool glass of the window. “I heard you the first time.” She noticed in his side mirror that he looked a little shell shocked. 

Simmons knit her eyebrows together and drew her lips together. Skye would have called it her ‘stink face’ if she were there. “Well…I just wanted you to be awake when we get back, the turn off is just up ahead.” 

Fitz stretched and rubbed his forehead. She smiled as she made the turn onto the road leading back to the Bus. 

“Was I out long?” Fitz asked as he reached for his water. 

Simmons kept to the facts. If she kept to the facts, maybe she wouldn’t give away that she heard Fitz talk about her in his sleep. 

“Mmm-hmm, you’ve been out almost for eighty three minutes,” she said, glancing at the clock. 

Fitz looked straight ahead, as did Simmons. “Ah,” was all he could manage to say. The Bus was coming into view ahead. Simmons pulled up onto the ramp. No one was there to greet them, which was no surprise, but they both secretly wished someone else was there to cut the silence. They climbed out of the van and headed into their lab.  They were greeted by a physical note taped to the door. 

“It’s been a long night. Get some rest. I’ll wake you when Mr. Charles is ready,” Simmons read May’s neat scrawl aloud, Fitz reading over her shoulder. 

“Well that’s just ridiculous/ We’ve got so much work to do,” they said over each other. 

“I’ll go put a kettle on,” Fitz said, the whoosh of the door causing a slight breeze. 

“Wonderful. I’ll go take these clothes to Ned and Chuck and then take a quick shower.” 

Fitz visibly blushed. Simmons noticed, then immediately reciprocated. They were both wondering what was wrong with them. They tried to part ways quickly, but both of them needed to go upstairs, so they stutter stepped their way to the spiral staircase, where Fitz then awkwardly insisted ‘Ladies first.’ 

 

* * *

 

Melinda May and Phil Coulson had retreated to Coulson’s office where they had shifted gears and were going over the Centipede intel that Skye had researched in the previous week. Cybertek and Centipede and the Clairvoyant were all connected. They just had to figure out how, and how it Chuck’s father figured into the mix.

“Do you think he really knows anything?” Coulson asked, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples. 

Melinda May sat across the desk. The only sign that she had been awake all day was that she leaned her head against the back of the chair. “It appears to be a ‘wrong place, wrong time’ sort of situation,” she answered. 

“I think so too, but I still don’t trust the guy.” 

“I don’t think anyone does, Phil, but I don’t think he’s the Clairvoyant either,” May responded, eyes blinking a little heavier than normal. “Do you think FitzSimmons will get back to work when they return or actually follow orders?” 

“They’ll get right back to it.” 

“And Skye?” 

“No clue. I haven’t figured her out yet,” Phil answered. He loosened the knot of tie. “But there’s nothing for her to do unless FitzSimmons put her to work.” 

“Do you still think we can trust _her_? Melinda raised her head and her eyebrows. 

“I wouldn’t have brought her on if I didn’t.” 

“Yes you would have.” 

“Yes I would have. And you would have too. But I do trust her, despite her bad decision making. I think she sees things that we don’t.” 

“Do you think having Ward train her was a good idea?” May asked. 

“I think she brings out something good in him. I think we all do. But I think she brings out the good in us too.” 

May rolled her eyes. “You need sleep, Phil, you’re going soft again.” She rose up from her chair and went for the door. 

“Maybe. Where are you off to?” He asked. 

May halted just before reaching the doorknob. She grinned to herself before turning her head back to Phil. “It’s five a.m. Phil. It’s time to train.” 

Phil Coulson watched her leave and smiled, before wriggling out of his shoes and returning to the files on his desk.  

 

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons hesitated before knocking on the interrogation room. She imagined the solemn scene on the other side of the door and she didn’t want to intrude on such a private affair. But she also wanted to get back to work and help them if she could. And to do that, she had to let them know they were back.  She held her breath while waiting for someone to open the door. 

Ned had taken a seat next to the door while Chuck and Charles were talking. He had begun to drift off when the knock startled him. He reached over to crack the door, seeing Simmons flash a bright smile. It appeared brighter than normal in contrast with the dirt covering her face and clothes. That had been him on more than one occasion. 

“Agent Simmons, you’re back. Are you r-“ he whispered. 

Simmons out of habit promptly interrupted him. “Ready? Oh no, no. We only just got back. I just wanted to let you know that we picked up a change of clothes for you and Chuck while we were at your apartment,” she whispered back. She held up a SHIELD duffel bag. 

Ned was struck by her kindness. “Thanks,” he replied. 

“We have a bathroom just down the hallway, but Fitz and I are going to take a shower first-“ Seeing Ned’s eyebrows jump up practically into his hairline made her realize what she had just said. “ I mean, uh, I…separately. Separate showers. Haha. We’re dirty and sweaty from _digging up the grave_ , and I’m just going to… go…goodbye Ned. We’ll be down in the lab after we shower. Uh, separately. Okay. Right.” She stammered and smiled awkwardly before speed-walking away and cringing and cursing to herself. Ned was so confused by what he just witnessed that he didn’t say anything but instead just took the clothes and shut the door. 

“Are they back?” Chuck asked, clutching her father’s gloved hand. 

Ned nodded. “And they brought us a change of clothes," he said, raising the bag in his hand. "I don’t think they’re ready though. You still have time,” he smiled reassuringly. 

“Well that was really thoughtful,” she said. 

“It really was.” 

They sat there, staring at each other, seeming to forget that Chuck’s father was still there. 

“Uhhh…” Charles Charles cleared his throat, attempting to snap the lovebirds out of their trance. “Listen, Ned, I want to say…,” he paused, choosing for the first time to be honest with Ned, rather than patronizing. “Thanks for taking care of my Charlotte.” 

Ned nodded. “You’re welcome.” 

“Say, I’m going to go for a walk, see if I could be of use to anyone. Are you two good?” Ned asked. They nodded that they were. 

  

* * *

 

Fitz rapped his knuckles on the door of Coulson’s office.  When Coulson beckoned him in he sat an evidence back containing the two watches on the desk. 

“We got the watches, sir,” he said. “So...what are they?” he added more tentatively. 

Coulson was punchy, but he liked the kid. “No idea. But they’re something. Probably alien. Since everything seems to be coming up alien these days.” 

“You think its Chitauri?” Fitz asked, suddenly worried about his bare hands. He stuffed them into the pockets of his cardigan. 

“They aren’t the only aliens in the universe, Fitz,” Coulson replied, drawing in a deep breath. “It’s a shame we don’t have the third.” Through the bag he turned one of the watches over in his hand, examining the back. 

“Um, sir?” Fitz responded. “I think we might…” he pulled his hand out of his pocket to reveal what appeared to be the third watch. “I have no idea where this came from, sir,” he added, panicked. 

“Fitz.” 

“I don’t know where it came from, I swear! I just put my hands in my pockets and found it!” 

“I believe you. Take them to the lab, run some tests. Keep them separated as much as you can. We don’t really know what these things do. You know what? I’ll just keep this third one here until after you’ve looked at them.” 

“Right. Good idea, sir,” Fitz answered, dropping the third watch onto the desk with a loud thud. “Sorry…hand slipped.” 

“Dismissed.” Coulson said before fishing a black metal box from a drawer in his desk. He then promptly picked up the watch with his now discarded tie and placed it in the box, fastening the lid shut and placing it in the wall safe. 

“This was supposed to be just a simple science mission,” he sighed before putting his glasses back on and getting back to work.

 

* * *

 

 

Fitz got to work at his station scanning one watch and dissecting the other, his workspace quickly expanded into a mess of tiny, intricate pieces of metal. When Simmons returned clean and refreshed he pretended not to notice, which was just fine by Simmons, who thanked him for the tea and got to work interpreting Ned’s neural images, blood work, and temperature analysis. When Fitz told Simmons about the mystery watch found in his pocket, she questioned him thoroughly and together they concluded that someone else must have been at the grave, which troubled them deeply. They did not like not knowing who, or what, Fitz pointed out, could be out in the shadows. 

They both got back to work, and eventually Fitz realized he was still covered in dirt and little bit of vomit and excused himself from the lab. Simmons had just finished uploading the scans into the holotable and she began to see the big picture. She spun the hologram of Ned’s brain in every direction, removed the cerebral cortex and set it aside, floating in the space. She expanded the hippocampus, then took it out, shrank the cerebellum, flipped the thalamus, and stripped out the visual cortex and optic chiasm. One by one she teased out every cranial nerve with the precision of a scalpel, and all the while the compiled brain responses looped in the image she held between her fingers. She could see what was happening, she just couldn’t figure out how to reverse it. 

Knowing that sometimes the best thing to do when stuck on something is to walk away and approach it again later, she moved over to Fitz’s watch analysis. 

“All of this metal…it all reads ordinary,” she said aloud, looking at the spectrometer. “Well that’s a relief.”

Just then Fitz returned, his hair still wet and to Simmons’ relief the smile on his face had also returned. 

“What d’you think?” Fitz asked, peering over her shoulder at the array of watch pieces on the table. 

“I think…you smell really nice. Is that the new shampoo May picked up?” Simmons answered. 

Fitz tugged at his collar. “Umm..yeah actually. You used the last of the other bottle.” 

“Sorry!” She crinkled her nose. “But back to this, it looks ordinary; this is all just your standard steel and bronze alloys.” 

“Ah! But what about…” Fitz paused as he ducked under her bent arm. “…what about _this.'_ He reached for a glove and grabbed a tiny stone.

“That’s just a piece of quartz.” 

“Ah! But look at this-“ Fitz sat down at his computer and pulled up the molecular analysis. 

Simmons’ eyes went wide. “That is _not_ just a piece of quartz.” On the screen in front of them, the molecular structure kept oscilating wildly.

 

 

 

 

 


	13. What Could Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The magical conclusion to our story. Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it. I know I did.

“Look what happens when I do this,” Fitz said, reaching across the table. Simmons stepped back out of his way. He placed the quartz on a petri dish, then popped open the second watch and placed it’s quartz on the same dish. He placed them under a laser, and data began to flash on the display. 

“Are they chiral structures? They aren’t stable,” she answered. Her face was affixed to the screen. 

“Yes! But why?” He replied with another question. He spun the dish around and watched the crystalline structure on the screen spin in opposite directions. 

“Where do you think this comes from?” Simmons again answered with another question. 

“And what do you think this has to do with Ned?” Fitz asked in response. 

“What makes you think this has something to do with Ned?” Simmons asked. 

“When has anything we’ve come in contact with on this plane been a coincidence?” Fitz asked back. He handed her the dish and she grabbed on of Ned’s saliva swabs and set to work at her microscope. 

 Simmons pondered this for a moment. “Fair point, actually.” Simmons answered. “What if…” Simmons began running hypotheses in her head. On the screen adjacent she focused on individual cells and with forceps introduced the quartz onto the slide. When that produced no results, she reached for the other watch, but Fitz had already popped it open and removed the stone. He reached in and placed it ninety degrees away from the other piece. The cellular membranes began to shake on the screen. They shared a smile and an air-five. 

“Let’s ask Skye to run through the SHIELD database see if she can find anything similar reported. I think I know how to fix this.” 

“Let’s ask Skye to look for what?” Skye asked as she walked in the lab, Emerson Cod in tow, who carried with him a small bag. Seeing the puzzled look on the scientists’ faces, he explained that he had packed a change of clothes, knowing that he would get dirty at the cemetery. 

“Not. A. Word,” he said in a very short staccato. They all nodded. 

FitzSimmons then summarized their findings, and once Skye had them explain it again in layman’s terms she went to the lounge to work on her computer. Simmons escorted Mr. Cod upstairs and showed him to the shower, then made her way to the interrogation room. 

Chuck opened the door. “Agent Simmons. Are you here for-“ 

“Oh no no no, not yet,” Simmons had cut her off mid-sentence. She peered into the room over Chuck’s shoulder. “Where is Ned?” she asked. 

“Oh he went for a walk. It’s just me and Dad sitting here talking.” 

“Ah. Wonderful. Fitz and I just wanted to run a few more tests. We think we’re very close to a solution, but we need Ned to prove our hypothesis.” Simmons smiled with a confidence that seemed to calm Chuck. “Would either of you like some drinks? Maybe some breakfast?” 

Chuck politely declined. “Well should you change your mind, you’re not confined to this room; you’re welcome to walk about the plane. 

“Seatbelt sign is off. Got it,” Chuck said with grin. “Thanks Agent Simmons.” 

Simmons then began roam the corridors of the plane, looking for Ned. She didn’t have to go far; she came across Ned fast asleep on the sofa in the lounge, a blanket draped across his body and a pillow under his head. 

“I found him on the floor outside the room, I brought him up here.” 

Simmons jumped at the words. May was the quietest person she had ever encountered. She clenched her teeth tight and grinned to keep from swearing. 

Without another word, May walked towards the cockpit, leaving Simmons to wake up Ned. 

Just then, Emerson Cod, in a three piece suit and paisley shirt, emerged from the hallway. “You need him?” he asked. She nodded and was about to launch into an explanation when he walked behind the couch and shook him awake. She cringed in the background. 

Ned, confused and groggy, slowly sat up. “Emerson?” he asked, trying to focus his eyes on his surroundings. 

Emerson ducked behind the couch and brought his finger to his lips. His face was an indication to keep quiet. Simmons rolled her eyes because she did not know what else to do. 

“Is Emerson here?” Ned asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the drool from his chin. “I could’ve sworn…” He looked at Agents Simmons for answers. Her lips twitched and she shook her head. 

The private detective crawled toward the door, where he ran nose first into Chuck’s knees. 

“Did you drop something, Emerson?” she asked with a smirk. 

He clenched his jaw then the sarcasm dripped from his mouth like honey. “Only my dignity.” 

“I knew that was you! How did you know where we were? Skye called you didn’t she.” Ned sat up. 

“Maybe.” He stood up and wiped his knees. 

“You were worried,” Chuck said, fighting the smile dancing on her lips. 

Emerson shook his head. “Believe what you want. I heard Charles Charles showed up and trouble follows that man wherever he goes…same could be said about you and Pie Maker, come to think of it.”

Ned smiled to himself, more to annoy Emerson than anything else. He noticed Simmons in the doorway, who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. 

“Did you need me again, Agent Simmons?” 

She cleared her throat. “Fitz and I have a theory. Chuck if you could come with us too that would be great.”               

Back in the lab they found Fitz deep in concentration over the alien quartz data. 

“Ah! There you are- both of you- brilliant.” He then ushered Chuck over to a chair next to his station. Sensing her apprehension as he grabbed some electrodes, he paused. I just want to get some readings of you as you are in proximity to a foreign agent.” 

“Foreign agent?” she asked. 

Simmons ignored the apprehension in Chuck’s voice. “We’ll explain in a minute, we promise.” She nodded encouragingly, as she sat Ned down and did the same thing. 

Fitz placed the brain analyzer on Chuck’s head, as Simmons brought over the watch pieces. Blues and greens remained consistent on the screen in the presence and absence of the quartz. When they repeated the same test on Ned, reds and yellows gradually transformed into oranges and greens. 

“What does that mean?” Ned asked. 

“It means we need that third watch…Fitz?” Simmons answered. Before she finished her sentence Fitz had already left the lab for Coulson’s office. 

“Ned, we think that these watches contain elements of _alien_ origin.” 

His jaw dropped. “Alien? What does that have to do with me?” 

“That’s not entirely clear, I’m afraid.” Simmons said. “Do you know much about your parents? Was he still with the military when you were conceived?” 

“I’m not entirely sure, seeing as I wasn’t there.” Ned tried to smile to mask his alarm at potentially being an alien. 

“But did they ever tell you any stories about your birth? My mum loves to remind me that I was very traumatic and stubborn,” Simmons said. 

“Was?” Skye remarked. 

Simmons ignored her. “For example…was your father still friends with Mr. Dixon and Mr. Charles?” 

“No idea…obviously we lived next door to Mr. Charles, but I’d never met Dwight Dixon before he showed up at The Pie Hole. All I remember was her telling me it was a foggy night. Come to think of it, it was foggy the night before I got my power… am I an alien?” Ned’s nerves made his eye twitch. 

“Only in personality,” Emerson chimed in, reminding the others that he was there. 

“You’re as human as everyone else in this room,” Simmons answered, trying to keep the room from going into a panic. She removed the equipment from Ned. 

Just then, Skye entered the lab with her laptop. “I’m not finding anything in the database about watches. But I did find some files mentioning some white cube that went missing in the late seventies. The report is heavily redacted and the dates are not very specific. Doesn’t say much…or nothing really…about what it was. Says it was originally obtained from a mission involving Red Skull…” 

“Well that’s just fantastic. It’s only a _Nazi weapon_.” Fitz threw his hands in the air as he returned, watch in gloved hand. Simmons rolled her eyes and snatched it out of his hand. 

“Only _part…_ a very tiny part…right?” Simmons asked. 

“Don’t ask me, ask Peggy Carter,” Skye said, shrugging her shoulders. Ned and Chuck shared an uncomfortable look. “And we don’t even know if it’s the same compound.” 

“Peggy Carter has severe dementia in an assisted living facility in Washington,” Simmons said, placing the third watch piece in direct proximity to the other two. The readings on Ned’s brain instantly went to shades of greens and blues. “She sadly won’t be much help. But what I wouldn’t give to talk with her…” she said wistfully. “Whatever this is…this is the root of it all,” she then added, her eyes wide as she looked from Ned to Fitz. 

“All Fitz and I have to do is create a sort of…” 

“…a sort of reverse dampener; a way to turn off your brain’s response…or rather anti-response to…well, whatever these things are,” Fitz finished. 

“Like a light switch?” Chuck asked. 

Fitz’ eyes lit up. “Yes! Exactly!” he said excitedly, turning to Simmons. “In a way it’s like there is an incomplete circuit, and when you touch something that is dead, that circuit, well it sort of…” Fitz then made a buzzing noise. “It shorts out, right?” Ned, Emerson, and Chuck nodded in unison. “We can use our antiserum device to reroute and complete the circuit with an enantiomer of the compound without-“ 

“-without reanimating the dead.” Simmons turned and nodded. 

“And…Chuck will be fine?” Ned asked.               

  "Do not…“ Emerson interrupted as Ned and Chuck both reached to grab one of his hands. He sighed.“…hold my hands. C’mon, man.”

“It definitely appears that way. Yes.” Simmons answered, sharing a glance with Chuck, whose eyes were welling with tears. “We’ll obviously test Ned with fruits and rats thoroughly first.” 

“Do you guys want us to stick around?” Ned asked. 

Skye stood up and shook her head.  “This next part’s really just going to be a boring montage of Tweedle Smartest and Tweedle Smart-Ass being, well, smarter than everyone else.” 

They put on their best indignant faces in protest and then looked at each other, deciding mentally which one was which. Fitz furrowed his brow as he put his hands on his hips. Simmons beamed for a moment before getting serious again. 

“Skye’s right,” Simmons said. “Your presence isn’t required, but Ned, be back here…say three hours?” Simmons asked. When Ned didn’t respond, she pushed further. “This will work, Ned. I’d go exfoliate if I were you,” she smiled. Ned looked at her, confused. 

“Lots of touching coming up soon, I’d expect,” Fitz added with a wink, patting Ned on the back, which seemed to snap Ned back into reality. Emerson and Skye shared a laugh before they all left the lab. 

FitzSimmons quickly got to work finding a way to mimic the newly stabilized chemical structure of the mysterious stone. Fitz drew out the structure on the holotable and Simmons worked on altering the chemical structure of a block of quartz she retrieved from the lab storage closet. Her workstation quickly became a mess of acids, boiling beakers, and quartz dust. Upstairs, the others, having nothing to do until FitzSimmons finished their work, found themselves attempting small talk, which turned into Ned and Skye sharing boarding school and orphanage stories. Ward, having returned from a workout sat for a moment, listening but not saying much. When prompted to share a childhood story, he glanced at Skye, then dismissed himself to go shower. Skye tried to apologize for how moody he was.

“So what’s next for you guys? I mean, aside from the touching and the-“ Skye made some clicking noises which made Chuck grin and Ned shift in his seat. 

The two Would Be Lovers That Couldn’t Yet Touch looked at each other, as they often did. Emerson had a Pavlovian eye roll response to this. “Well, I suspect we’ll figure that out as it goes along, just like everyone else.” Ned said. “What’s next for you guys?” 

Skye shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever the boss man says really.” 

“How long have you guys been a team?” Chuck asked. 

“Not long. Few months…Say Chuck, has Coulson asked you about Tahiti?” 

Chuck shook her head. “No. Why? I was on vacation there when I died.” 

Skye thought carefully about what to say next; these were civilians after all. “Coulson spent some time there recently, thought he might have wanted to swap beach stories.” Skye wanted to tell them that her boss was also mysteriously brought back to life, but it wasn’t her story to share. And then she realized she hadn’t seen Coulson for hours, and wondered where he was. 

“So what was Tahiti like?” Skye continued. “Was it all grass skirts and drinks with little umbrellas? For the longest time that was all Coulson would ever talk about.” 

“Umm, well it was a lot like that, actually.” Chuck said. I picked up some monkeys, sat under palm trees, then got back on the boat and died.” She said, trying to make light of her death. 

“Death. Right. That must have been weird,” Skye said. “Did you say monkeys?” 

“Mmm Hmm,” Chuck nodded, eyes wide, not knowing what else to say. 

“Oh if Fitz hears about this he will _flip.”_ Skye leaned back against the couch and laughed. 

“Oh, well they weren’t real monkeys.” Chuck answered earnestly. 

“Fitz’ll be sad to know that.” 

“Sad to know what?” Fitz asked, walking into the lounge. 

“Thaaaat…Chuck and Ned have never seen Doctor Who,” Skye said, her smile grossly exaggerated as she tilted her head up to greet him. 

“Really? That’s a shame. Simmons and I are big fans,” Fitz said, placing his hands on his hips. “Ned, Chuck, we’re ready down in the lab…do you…I mean…you, you should…” Fitz was uncomfortable with the finality of what he was trying to say; he had his own issues with his father. 

Simmons walked in behind him, placing her hand on his back. He turned his head, catching her gaze and in an instant he regained his composure. “I think what Fitz is trying to say is, you should go honor your father’s wishes, Chuck.” Her voice was small, and her eyes were kind. “We’ll both be downstairs when you’re ready.” 

All eyes in the room turned to Ned. His throat suddenly went dry. His body felt charged with electricity, which he found ironic. “Well that’s ironic,” he said aloud. 

“What’s ironic?” Emerson asked. 

“Hmm? Oh…nothing.” He stood up, stretching his fingers. “Chuck? Do…you want to go ahead before me, go together…or…” he asked awkwardly. 

Chuck was still seated on the couch, suddenly very aware of her feet, which felt like lead bricks pulling her down, making her unable to stand. Despite everything she had been through in the past twenty four hours, in her heart she was ready. She made peace with her father, something she had long given up hope for, and as she stood up, she smiled. It was a brave smile; one that Simmons knew all too well herself. “We’ll go together; seems he should go out the same as he came back. No gloves?” 

Ned sighed; the weight on his chest floated away. “No gloves. And no time limit either.” 

“Then we should be fine,” she said, unwilling to break eye contact. She knew that if she did, she would cry, and she had done enough of that for the day. 

_Together_. The word resonated in the heads of FitzSimmons. Simmons still had one hand on Fitz’s back; the other now reached for his arm, and she leaned in for the subtlest of hugs. Fitz thought it felt like being wrapped in the softest of blankets, warm and secure, fresh from the laundry. 

* * *

 

They made their way to the interrogation room where they found Charles Charles napping on the floor. It seemed as if Ned wasn’t the only person that had received a pillow and blanket from Agent May. He looked at peace. 

“I don’t think we should wake him,” Chuck whispered. “He looks so peaceful…I don’t think we should wake him up just to kill him.” Her eyes were glassy. 

“Are you sure?” 

She looked at her father, his hat, sunglasses, and gloves removed and placed on the table. His bandaged face hid the decayed, scarred flesh. But all she could see was the man that promised her the world when she had chicken pox. And even though he never delivered on any of those promises, she would deliver on hers. 

“We said our goodbyes earlier,” she whispered, wiping a silent tear from her eye. “It’ll be like dying in his sleep. Painless.” 

“Well, it’s painless anyway, but I know what you mean,” Ned said, his voice and smile soft. 

Chuck kneeled beside her father’s head, and leaned down to kiss his bandaged face. 

Ned crouched on the other side of her, inhaling deeply. “I promise I’ll always protect her,” he whispered, waiting for Chuck to nod, indicating that she was ready. 

Chuck nodded. 

Ned reached his hand to Charles Charles’ face. There was a zap, a blue flush over his skin, and then Charles Charles returned to death. 

“Thank you, Ned,” she said, tears silently streaming down her smiling face. 

“You’re welcome,” he answered. Nothing more needed to be said in that moment. 

 

* * *

 

Down in the lab they were greeted with quiet nods. Emerson, not known for being an emotional man, gave them each an awkward hug before resuming his knitting. He had brought enough yarn with him to knit a tea cozy and three scarves, which he planned to give to FitzSimmons and Skye for curing Ned when all was said and done. 

“Right then. How are you? That’s a dumb question, I’m sorry,” Simmons winced at her own words, breaking the silence. 

“No, it’s fine. It’s what he wanted, I’m just sorry for the trouble he caused,” Chuck said. 

“Actually, the information he gave us may prove to be quite useful to us in the future; might even help save the world,” Fitz added. 

“I’m not entirely sure what all your father may have been involved in in his life, but he may have gone out a hero, and there is no shame in that, you should be proud,” May said as she surprised everyone in the lab; she had popped in after a training session in the loading bay to check on their progress. Chuck smiled faintly, not entirely sure what to say in response; _thank you_ felt inadequate. “I’ll be in the cockpit if anything happens,” she said before disappearing upstairs. 

“She is terrifying,” Ned said. “Is she always that stealthy? Well I guess that’s a good thing, being a spy and all.” 

“Yes,” Skye, Fitz, and Simmons replied in unison. 

“But you get used to it…for the most part,” Skye continued. FitzSimmons both shook their heads no behind her. 

The mood in the room shifted, and everyone in it seemed to be ready for the excitement ahead, Chuck especially; she was ready for a distraction. “So what now?” she asked, clapping her hands together and rocking on her heels. 

“Well, a lot actually,” Fitz went over to his workstation. “First, our device is ready.” At these words Simmons danced with excitement, which made both Ned and Chuck smile. “Second, and more good news, we predict that, and this concerns you, Chuck, that you will remain living once the device completes its…circuit.” Simmons gave a big thumbs up at this. Ned and Chuck’s smiles faltered and their eyebrows raised. 

“Well I would hope so! Geez! I hope there’s more to this _second,_ ” Skye chastised them. 

“ _Yes, SKYE,_ we were getting to that,” Fitz answered. “What we were getting to is that we don’t believe there will be any effect _at all_ , so there won’t be any instant aging or desiccation; you’ll be the exact same age you were when you died, give or take a few days. 

“You do have trace residual formaldehyde in your blood and hair, but they aren’t dangerous levels; it appears once you returned to life your body began producing blood normally and over time you’ve returned to normal serum levels. Though….” Simmons paused. 

“Though what?” Chuck asked, alarmed. 

“Though you may want to ease off the pie; your cholesterol levels are a tad elevated,” Simmons scrunched her face. “You too, Ned.”               

Emerson laughed at this from the corner of the room; Fitz laughed too, tapping Ned on the back as he walked past. 

“Are you ready, Ned?” Fitz asked. 

Ned stood in the lab, with his best friend and the love of his life, and he knew that he was making the right decision. He stood in the lab, facing two young brilliant scientists holding the key to a future where he could hold the hand of the woman he loved. He stood in the lab and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest like in that movie. He stood- 

“Uhhh…Ned?” Fitz asked again. “Ned? Are you ready?” Ned snapped back to reality, suddenly very aware that everyone was staring at him. But none of those faces mattered, except Chuck’s. 

“As ready as an apple-cheddar pie that has been sitting in an oven at 375 degrees for one hour,” he said, beaming at Chuck, who in turn was beaming back at him. 

FitzSimmons and Skye shared a confused glance before Emerson rolled his eyes and set them straight. “He means ‘yes’.” 

For all the buildup and testing Ned had done what seemed like days ago but in fact was only done the afternoon prior, the big event was very simple. There were no scanners set up, nor were there any analysis drones; just Simmons injecting an amethyst colored fluid into a syringe-looking device that Fitz had previously created. Ned realized in that moment, that it was that device that had saved Simmons’ life, and watching Fitz watch Simmons work reminded Ned that everyone does crazy things for love. 

“It’s actually very simple,” Simmons said, as she watched Fitz walk to his station to charge up the device, a faint smile played on her lips as Fitz turned away. “Once Fitz induces a charge, he’ll come over and zap you. And that’s it really. We’ve got some fruit you can test over on the other counter and then we’ll scan your brain again to confirm our results.” 

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” Simmons’ confidence was reassuring. 

_FZZT._ A green hue flushed all over Ned’s skin. He got instant goose flesh, and swayed forward. Simmons was there to catch him.

“That’s it,” Fitz said, pulling the device again from Ned’s arm. 

In that moment, Melinda May came rushing downstairs. “We’ve got incoming,” she shouted as she rushed down the stairs and to the cargo hold. 

Everyone turned to look at May as she took a stance at the open cargo door, Night Night pistol at the ready. In the distance they could only see a wave in the center of the daisy field, an indication that something was running directly towards the plane. 

“Where the hell is Coulson?” May mumbled under her breath, turning her head to realize that Lola was gone. 

Once Ned found his footing, he peered through the glass doors and beyond Agent May. Instantly he knew what was coming for them. He ran out the lab door.

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT!” he shouted frantically. May lowered her weapon, but not her gaze.

“Why?” she asked. As the object coming towards them came into view, she furrowed her brow. “It’s...”

“Digby?” Chuck asked incredulously. Now coming over the edge of the closest hill it became quite clear that this was no threat. This was a dog; a happy, determined, ever so loyal companion who had somehow escaped Olive Snook’s apartment and made the journey to Cour d’Coeurs

Ned began to jog out to great his very best friend, but was stopped by Agent May.

“Before you go out there, make sure you’re safe first,” she said.

“Right!” Ned jogged quickly back into the lab. “Give me something to touch!” he said, brandishing both his pointer fingers like pistols. “Hurry!”

Simmons promptly brought him two bowls, one of rotten strawberries and one of fresh berries that Ned had made ripe again just a few hours earlier. Ned put one finger in each bowl. Everyone watched with bated breath.

Nothing happened.

He did it again.

And again nothing happened.

Ned took a breath, his eyes wide with shock and relief.

Chuck could only jump in place wildly. “Go! Go! Go! I’ll be right here!”

By the time Ned made to leave the lab, Digby was reaching the cargo hold door. He stopped at the piemaker’s feet, looking up at him with loyal adoration and a wagging tongue. He raised a paw to shake.

“How do you always know?” Ned asked, crouching down to Digby’s eye level. He could barely contain himself. Ned reached with both hands to pet Digby. He barked, but did not die. He licked Ned’s face, which was now covered in his own tears. Digby liked the salt, but Digby also liked the man behind the salt.

At this point, Skye, Emerson and Chuck had made their way out to watch. Chuck was clinging to Emerson’s arm, which was clinging to a burgundy handkerchief dabbing his eyes. FitzSimmons were thoroughly going over their work, making sure that everything was safe. It was, and they joined everyone else in the cargo bay, hand in hand, though neither would realize it until much, much later, and neither would acknowledge it for months afterword.

Digby pushed Ned over and continued to lick his face. Neither had felt this happy in years, not since Ned was nine years, twenty-seven weeks, six days and two minutes old. Chuck walked over and crouched next to her two favorite men. “Can I join in this party?” she asked as she began to pet Digby.

Ned continued to pet his beloved dog, but turned to face Chuck. He pondered his next move. The piemaker took great thought as to where to touch her- the cheek, too casual, the lips…the lips. Every wish, every dream he’d had since he was nine years old was about to come true. He did not fully understand the hows or the whys of his life, but he would not have traded a single moment, for every moment until this one had led him here, into the arms of this wonderful, headstrong, woman whom he had loved his entire life. Their first kiss was simple, and magical. And warm. Ned had long forgotten how warm another person’s flesh could be. For a moment Ned and Chuck thought they had developed a new power to stop time, but the reality was that their kiss just made them forget that everything else existed. As they pulled away for a moment, they couldn’t stop smiling.

FitzSimmons couldn’t stop smiling either. Simmons dropped her head on his shoulder. “We gave them that,” she whispered in his ear. Her breath was warm and it tickled the hair on Fitz’ neck.

“I think they had  _that_ all along,” he whispered back. “We just helped them. When two people have a strong connection they’ll…”

“…do whatever it takes to be with the other person,” Simmons finished. Both smiled, and Simmons once more grabbed his hand. “Even if they face impossible odds.”

At that moment, Coulson drove Lola onto the cargo bay. Seeing Ned and Chuck still locked in an embrace, he cheered to himself. “Looks like we got our happy ending.”

“Looks that way,” May said. She looked at the paper he was holding in his hand. It was a program from the Portland Philharmonic. “Did you get your happy ending?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

Coulson gave a placating smile. “Not yet. Did they?” He nodded towards FitzSimmons, holding hands.

“Not yet,” she answered. “But there’s a promise of what could be.”


End file.
